


The Ghost In You

by nekojita



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Neil can see ghosts, Pining Andrew, Protective Andrew, Psychic Abilities, References to eating disorders, Renee is still amazing as always, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, but the Foxes are still Foxes in important ways, ghost story, he's not the only one, references to children in therapy for child abuse but nothing graphic, some people aren't alive anymore, the Foxes are case workers for kids, there's some big changes here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 147,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/pseuds/nekojita
Summary: Palmetto Services (also known as the Foxhole Court because of its decorations and plethora of fox stuffed animals on hand) has a dedicated staff of employees willing to do whatever they can to help children who've been let down by the system, their families, the very people who are supposed to protect and take care of them; many of them know first-hand the pain and difficulties these children have suffered.Many of them have ghosts from the past they're doing their best to excise, to forget or move on from in one way or another.Some of them in a literal sense.One of them isn't trying to let go at all.





	1. Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> *******  
> Happy Halloween! (well, a little early). I know, I know, I need to wrap up Raven's Partner (I've a bit of the last chapter written), but I wanted something for the season and this just seized hold of me and wouldn't let go. So, you have a ghost story, more or less. Consider that a warning. It'll be in the theme of horror, somewhat - no Exy, a twist on the Morimayas (you'll see in this chapter), but while much of the Foxes' backstory is the same (at least up to a point), the Moriyamas weren't the major crime lords and there's no Edgar Allan since there's no Exy. 
> 
> Uhm... triggers - there's some description of Nathan's work, a character being roughed up a little, vague reference to violence, and very vague reference to child abuse since the Foxes are case workers for abused children. But I won't go into detail there and the focus will be on therapy. Feel free to point out anything that needs tagged/noted.

*******

Nathaniel inched his way along the hallway with its dark wood paneling and the deep red rug on the dark grey tiled floor, eyes downcast to avoid the shadows (to avoid the _things_ which sometimes hovered in the shadows) as he attempted to reach the kitchen. He was about a third of the way down the long corridor when his father’s deep, cigarette smoke-roughened voice called out.

“Junior.” He froze upon hearing it and forced himself to look up, mindful of how his father hated it when he averted his gaze, and almost shivered in relief when he only saw the man standing in the doorway to the parlor, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to show off muscular forearms. “Go fetch my suit coat from my office, boy,” Nathan ordered, a slight smile on his thin lips yet pale blue eyes narrowed in a way that meant ‘do it or else’.

Nathaniel gave a deep nod. “Yes, sir.” He forced himself to move, to obey the command since his body still ached from the last time he’d earned his father’s ‘disappointment’, the bruises dark and stitches days away from being removed, and pushed down deep the fear he felt over going into the office.

Maybe it would be empty.

_Maybe._

He never was very lucky.

As soon as he stepped into the large room with the big desk toward the one wall with the thick drapes always closed over the windows, the floor covered with cheap area rugs that were always being replaced, Nathaniel could feel the chill in the air and hunched in on himself, forced himself to look only at the dark blue suit coat draped over one of the padded leather chairs set off to the side in front of the desk. He ran toward his goal, intent on grabbing the coat and leaving the room as quickly as possible, and snatched up the garment with the heavy item tucked in one of the inside pockets (a gun or knife or something he probably shouldn’t know about).

He almost made it to the door before _it_ appeared, one of his father’s latest victims (most likely). It was impossible to tell if they were a man or a woman, not with the flesh stripped away from their face, with the remnants of their clothes bloody tatters and their arms cut off at the elbows, their left foot as well. Nathan must have made an example of them (a dark memory rising in Nathaniel’s mind of Lola holding onto his shoulders and forcing him to watch as his father took a person apart piece by piece to make someone else talk), and now the spirit was nothing but rage and pain.

Was nothing but rage and pain and alone in a room with Nathaniel, the son of the man who’d murdered it in such a terrible way.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and tried to remember what his mother had taught him, to _focus_ , but it was so cold and whatever was in the coat he held clutched to his chest made his body feel as if knives were being driven into his joints and-

“Get the hell away from my son, you fuckin’ slag,” Nathaniel’s mother spat the same time she threw a handful of salt at the spirit, her fingers covered in thick iron rings. There was a piercing wail inside of Nathaniel’s head as the spirit splintered into myriad iridescent, translucent pieces which whirled about in the frigid air; Mary’s ring-laden hands flashed about with her face set in concentration, unbothered by both the intense cold and the noise, and after about half a minute the spirit disappeared.

He whimpered once it was gone and almost fell to his knees, but his mother rushed forward to wrap her arms around him and to stroke her hand over his head. “You all right, Abram?”

“Yu-yes,” he managed to stutter, despite the fading cold and the awful sensation from holding onto the coat.

“Good.” Then she gave him a slight cuff to the back of his head, the impact heightened because of the iron rings she wore. “What have I been teaching you? We’ll have to work some more on your lessons.”

Aware that his mother wasn’t one for excuses, he never-the-less held up the coat as he swallowed down his sniffles. “I have to take this to Father.”

Mary stiffened as she touched the coat, a rare open display of distaste flashing across her face for a moment. “Then go do it, quickly, while I clean this up,” she scolded while she removed the rings and hid them away once more. “And-“

“Keep quiet about it,” Nathaniel said, well aware that he wasn’t to tell his father or any of the man’s people about what he and his mother ‘saw’, about why she kept the iron rings on her even though Nathan thought them trash and worthless.

When it wasn’t good, to go against Nathan Wesninski, the Butcher of Baltimore.

He made their lives bad enough, he didn’t need to know that what he did down in the basement or out in the streets of the city hurt them as much as his hands and his knives.

“Good boy,” Mary said as she gave Nathaniel a gentle shove out into the hallway so he could complete his errand before he earned his father’s wrath (and another scar).

He went to face the man, certain that the only monsters he’d deal with right then were the mortal kind (at least).

It would only be a short-lived reprieve.

*******

Andrew gave what passed as a glare from him at Wymack as he stalked into the man’s office. “How the hell am I supposed to help Peter Minkin if I can’t understand him, hmm?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone of voice as he slapped his latest case file onto his boss’ desk and narrowly missed sending a pile of paperwork toppling over as a result.

Used to him by that point, Wymack didn’t even flinch or pause in drinking his coffee and merely gave Andrew the finger as if gesturing for ‘one minute’ while he finished his needed influx of caffeine before speaking. “Because that’s why I hired a damn translator last month? Which a shitty little maggot like you would know if you’d attended the supposedly mandatory staff meetings.” Wymack glowered as he folded his tattooed arms on top of his messy desk.

Andrew waved aside the usual gripe as he snatched up the abandoned file, partially mollified that he’d have a way to communicate with the kid. “That’s what Kevin’s ten page summary emails are for,” and ignored – he relied upon Renee to fill him in on any necessary details, but she was currently on sabbatical, off helping out some old Peace Corps friends with a project for a couple of months. Hmm, he had to wonder if the new translator had anything to do with the ‘hot piece of ass’ Nicky had been going on about lately, which was even more reason for Andrew to ignore his cousin. “I’m scheduled for a preliminary meeting with Peter in half an hour, the translator better be there,” Andrew said as he turned to leave the cluttered office.

“It’s already on Josten’s schedule,” Wymack called out. “You’d know that, too, if you read your damn emails!”

That was another familiar complaint which was waved aside as Andrew left, intent on having some more caffeine himself while he checked for any important updates to Peter’s files before the appointment; on the way to the kitchen and then to his own office (a lot less cluttered and disorganized than Wymack’s), he ran into Nicky and Robin, yet managed to fend them off by waving the thick folder in the air. Nicky grimaced, clearly in the mood to talk and unhappy to be denied, while Robin, finally cleared to work on cases of her own after shadowing Andrew for the past few months, smiled and wished him a good day.

It was such a _hopeful_ thought, but highly unrealistic; the children brought to Palmetto Services (nicknamed the Foxhole because of all the stuffed foxes scattered around the place and the playful versions painted on the walls in an effort to soothe and cheer up the kids) were abused and/or traumatized, were the ones who’d been fucked over by the ‘official’ child services system in one way or another and so it had been decided that they needed more specialized attention (that they’d be someone else’s problem).

It meant that Andrew was working with kids who often suffered through the same thing he’d gone through as a child, the same pain and abuse and neglect… and he got to end the horror for them. He got to make it better, but it took a _lot_ of work, a lot of patience and digging and effort, and he knew firsthand the nightmares would still continue even though the monsters had been vanquished at last (at least _those_ monsters).

At least, _he_ did everything he could to help the children assigned to him, so the new translator – Neil Josten – better not fuck things up with Peter Minkin. From what the files said about the boy, he’d been taken into custody from a violent father up on various charges with no sign of the mother, and could barely speak any English. The boy was malnourished and bore repeated signs of abuse (Aaron had done a thorough physical on Peter, and Andrew could tell from the sloppiness of the handwritten notes attached to the copies of x-rays and bloodwork that his brother was furious about the results).

He skimmed the newly added details from his brother and what Seth had been able to unearth about the boy’s father, everything committed to memory, then went to the one prepared play room where Peter would be brought for their first session. It only took a minute for Andrew to reach it since it was right down the hall, and he was surprised to find someone there already.

The person was a young man around his age, probably a little younger, and had a couple of inches on Andrew’s five feet height. The dark grey sweater he wore hung on his lean frame, the sleeves falling past his hands, and dark brown hair flopped onto a handsome face bearing a faded scar down the right side, obscuring what seemed to be brown eyes. “Andrew Minyard?” the young man asked, his voice a quiet tenor and accent bland, lacking in any regional indicators.

“Neil Josten,” Andrew said by way of an answer, and noticed that Josten didn’t offer a handshake nor seem offended when Andrew didn’t do the same. “How’s your Russian?”

“Good,” Josten said then fell silent as he took a step back to lean against one of the bookshelves containing a multitude of stuffed animals.

Not a talker, which seemed odd for a translator, but that was fine with Andrew, who wasn’t much of a talker himself. He checked his phone to see that Abby was bringing Peter, along with a surreptitious glance at his associate; despite the shaggy haircut and baggy clothes, Nicky wasn’t too far off about Josten.

It was just a casual observation while he waited for the kid.

“And here we are,” Abby said as she arrived with Peter Minkin, a bright smile on her face and ash-blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Even though she was the head nurse practitioner for Palmetto Services and helped run the medical offices where Aaron and Katelyn interned, she often escorted the new or more skittish children around (her or Renee) since she projected ‘safe’ so well with her friendly smile, the colorful scrubs she wore and her genuine kindness.

As for Peter, he appeared small for his seven years (probably the malnutrition), his dark brown eyes huge in his face and his light brown hair cropped close to his skull. He was dressed in a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and jeans that were a little too long for him, and was obviously reluctant to come near two strange men.

Before Andrew could do anything, Josten moved away from the bookshelf with a stuffed Pooh in his hands and knelt a safe distance from the boy while he spoke softly in Russian. After a couple of seconds, Peter’s face broke into a smile and he gave a shy smile as he reached for the bear; Andrew noticed that Josten was mindful to hand it over slowly and without touching the child.

Josten spoke for about another minute, and then Peter joined in as well. That went on for another minute or two while Andrew’s annoyance grew, until he heard his name be brought up. Peter’s eyes flickered toward Andrew and whatever it was that Josten said seemed to put the boy at ease, to the point that he gave Andrew a slight wave with his right hand.

Soon after that, Josten nodded once and slowly stood up as if mindful not to startle Peter. “All right, I told him that you’re going to talk to him for a while, perhaps ask him some questions but that you’re here to help him and it’s going to be all right, that you won’t touch him.” Something made Josten’s jaw clench for a moment before he went back to the one bookshelf. “No one here will.”

Interesting, that Josten said ‘not touch’ instead of ‘not hurt’, not that either would happen while Andrew was around. “He’s right,” Andrew told Peter even though the boy might not understand him. “As he said, I’m Andrew, now shall we play a couple of games?” He motioned toward the one table that was already set up with the various coloring books and simple games he used to help him know the children assigned to him better as well as work toward gaining their trust while Josten translated.

The session went by quickly despite Andrew’s inability to talk directly Peter, with Josten only speaking to translate and staying quiet otherwise. Peter seemed to enjoy being able to play with crayons and to draw what were probably meant to be animal shapes, but withdrew into himself whenever Andrew brought up his father or the one coloring book had images of a man and a woman with a child or children in it.

Probably not a good idea to have Wymack attend any sessions with the boy in the near future.

The session ended with Andrew certain about Peter’s abuse and forming a plan on how to move forward with his treatment, but aware that it would take numerous more sessions. He remained seated when Abby returned for Peter, intent on retaining the slight bit of trust he’d earned with the boy so far.

It was difficult to tell with the overlarge sweater, but when Josten left the room first, Andrew thought Nicky might be on to something about the man’s ass. Also, he’d have to talk to Wymack about having the door looked into since something was wrong with its hinges – the damn thing would have slammed shut in his face if he hadn’t stopped it in time. He also felt a blast of cold, so the air conditioning was acting up.

He stopped by Bee’s office to share his initial observations with her about the boy and go over his reactions to the new case, as well as his workload in general. After about half an hour, they moved on to more ‘safe’ topics (the latest books they were reading, a new bakery), and he brought up Josten. “What’s his story?”

“Neil?” Bee handed over a fresh mug of hot chocolate before she returned to her desk. “David felt that we needed an official translator on site rather than request one on demand all the time. We can’t keep limping along with the various languages everyone on the staff knows, so he brought in a heavy-hitter,” she said with a smile.

Andrew thought about that for a moment, about Josten’s quiet voice and professional behavior. “What does he know besides Russian?”

“That I’m aware of? Chinese, Spanish, French, German and Arabic.” Her smile strengthened when Andrew’s brows drew together. “Yes, very impressive.”

“Why’s he working here, then?” One didn’t go into a social service related job for the money, and it seemed to Andrew that someone with Josten’s skills could be working for the government or some big corporation.

Bee was quiet while she sipped her own hot chocolate as if debating what to say. “I’ve only met him a couple of times and David’s been quiet about how he found Neil… but I’m willing to bet that Neil works here for much the same reason that most of us do,” she admitted. “It’s personal for him.”

Andrew thought about that after he left to continue with the rest of his current cases (Isabel and Ryan and Cory), while he worked with Laila on the upcoming court trial for Cory’s prick of a father and spent some time with Robin on one of her own cases. He had just enough time to join Aaron for lunch and was satisfied to have an excuse to turn down meeting up with Kevin later that evening to watch some stupid game in a bar, even if it had been too long since he’d gone out drinking or had any ‘fun’.

Josten showed up each day to translate for Peter, a quiet, unobtrusive presence who stood off to the side and relayed what Andrew and Peter spoke as Andrew worked hard to earn the boy’s trust, to slowly try to pry the truth out of him about what his father had done to him and his missing mother. Each day Josten would show up in thick sweaters despite the fall weather still being warm for that time of year, covered from lower neck to hands and feet, his hair barely combed and falling onto his rarely expressive face. He would translate and then leave, and Andrew wouldn’t see him in the break room or the small cafeteria or anywhere else around the Foxhole.

It wasn’t _that_ huge of a building.

“What do you think of him?” Nicky asked during lunch one day, about two weeks after Peter had arrived at the Foxhole. “You’re so lucky you get to work with him – all of my kids speak English or Spanish,” he said with a slight grimace, as if he didn’t adore his cases; he worked with kids facing difficulties due to them coming out or transitioning, often because of their home life or the situations at school.

“He translates, which is good,” Andrew said as he broke apart his cheese sandwich.

“Oh _come_ on.” Nicky rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll admit that Neil needs a major wardrobe overhaul and makeover, but he’s still _hot_. How can you stand being in a room with him every day and _not_ notice that hotness?”

Andrew greatly regretted his cousin finding out about him and Roland, even if it was just a casual thing. “Because I’m working and we’ve said like five things to each other?”

Nicky frowned at that. “Yeah, he’s not very outgoing, is he? Matt’s tried a few times to invite him out to some of our group events but always gets interrupted by something. “ He grinned as he leaned forward with his elbows on his table, mindful not to get too close to Andrew’s ‘personal space’. “I wish I had my phone out the one time the coffee maker just started shooting water out all over him! It was the weirdest thing but funny as hell! Another time he leaned against the fridge wrong and somehow hit the ice button and the cubes started just falling out onto the floor! I think Neil’s terrified of being around him because of what’ll happen next, the poor guy.”

Well, Boyd was a bit of an eager puppy when he decided to go after something, though not as bad as Knox – there was a reason the men helped Kevin with the sports therapy programs. “Nothing’s going to happen,” Andrew told his cousin. “Drop it.”

“But-“

“ _No_.” Andrew grabbed the rest of his sandwich with the intent of finishing it in his office and ignored his cousin’s crestfallen expression with ease as he walked away.

Still, something about the conversation stuck with him, as did Bee’s. It made him study Josten even more, made him pay close attention to the way the younger man was so patient with Peter, would soften his voice or offer up a new stuffed animal at just the right time (when Andrew had to ask more details about the bastard of a sperm donor). How there seemed to be a darkness in Josten’s eyes when Peter began to give up halting details, when he drew angry red marks on the child images (and the mom images as well).

“Who is he?” Andrew asked Wymack when they met the day before Cory’s trial would begin. “Where did he come from?”

“That’s confidential information,” Wymack said with a stubborn set to his jaw. “Just know that he had great recommendations and leave it at that.”

No, not quite, but the old bastard had installed a better lock on the personnel file drawers after he’d realized that Andrew had gone through them to check up on the last few hires, so Andrew would have to bide his time to read Josten’s file (that or get enough dirt on Seth to have him hack the online version, which might be easier).

His part in Cory’s trial lasted two days, two days of mental exhaustion and barely constrained anger while he was questioned and cross-examined and had to push down the urge to get up out of a damn uncomfortable wooden seat and bash in the brains of some fucking prick who’d dared to harm a defenseless child. Two nights of the memories rushing back to the fore worse than usual, of the demons riding him harder than usual… but it was worth it for Cory to be free, for the prick to receive a guilty verdict, according to the text he received from Laila as he worked on his daily tasks once back in the office.

Perhaps it was that text, or perhaps it was the way that Peter smiled at him when the boy saw him, the sense of progress during their session, but after Peter was gone and Josten went to leave as usual, Andrew spoke up. “Soon I’ll start working in new elements, have him sit in with Bee and try some sessions with Kevin as well. He’s going to need to learn English and get back in classes once he’s stable.”

Josten paused by the door to look back at him. “Yes, I’ve been asked to do a language evaluation of him in the next week or so, and to sit in with Dr. Dobson.”

Still so distant and polite, as always. Andrew shoved aside a thought on if he was like that with other things. “No other cases you’re assisting with right now?”

“A couple.” Josten cocked his head to the side. “It’s fine, I can manage.”

“Is that what keeps you so busy? I don’t see you around here at all.”

Josten tugged the cuffs of his light grey sweater (he always wore grey or light blue, wore such boring colors and clothes) even farther over his hands; Andrew thought he caught sight of faded scars on the long, slim fingers before they disappeared. “I have things to do.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, was it? “What do you think of Peter’s progress so far? Perhaps we can discuss it over a cup of coffee?” Andrew didn’t usually do the whole ‘social’ thing, but there was something interesting about the translator, something that drew his attention the more that Josten tried to hide away.

For a moment he thought that the man was going to say ‘yes’, and then Josten drew in a quick breath as he wrapped his arms around his middle. “No, I have paperwork I need to do. I’ll send you an email with my thoughts,” he said in a rush before he spun around and almost ran from the room.

Surprised by the reaction which seemed almost fearful, Andrew stepped forward to follow Josten and find out what had provoked that response. He shivered as he encountered a spot underneath the air conditioning vent (hadn’t Wymack fixed that yet?) and cursed when the door slammed into him with unexpected force, enough to knock him aside and leave his left arm throbbing with pain; it would have been his head if he hadn’t thrown his arm up in time.

Apparently Wymack hadn’t fixed _that_ , either.

Josten forgotten for the moment, Andrew cradled his sore arm against his chest as he stalked down the hallway to go have a ‘nice’ chat with his boss about building maintenance.

*******

Neil frowned when he noticed that the grapefruit weren’t on sale anymore, but perked up when the green apples and pomegranates were instead, both of which he stocked up on until he felt a harsh tug on his hair. He grabbed some radishes and yams since they were cheap enough to pass without complaint (and the few vegetables he didn’t mind), then left the produce section with some regret.

Chicken thighs were on sale as well, so he grabbed a couple of packages with a whispered ‘I’ll freeze some’, then checked to see what cheese was marked down and got some decent cheddar. He managed not to sigh over the ramen packages he added to the cart, and at least would have the chicken, radishes and yams to make a proper meal out of it, and got a loaf of not quite the cheapest white bread along with a jar of peanut butter.

He grabbed some more shampoo, laundry soap and toilet paper, then saved the first-aid aisle for last where he stocked up on bandages and antibacterial ointment. At least he didn’t need hair dye for a few more weeks, he thought to himself as he headed to pay for everything, mindful to pick a different cashier than last time.

The young woman smiled at him while she rang up his purchases, talking all the while about how she loved ramen, too, and wanted to try making an apple pie that weekend. He busied himself bagging up the items as they came down the conveyer belt, uncertain as to why she had to talk so much and not just focus on doing her job, and shook his head when she asked him questions along the lines of if he baked (he didn’t like sweets) or if he liked Japanese food (he did enjoy sushi, but it was rare when he allowed himself the treat).

She kept smiling at him despite the lack of answers, and made him flinch when she brushed his fingers with her own when she handed him the receipt after he used his debit card to pay for everything. Aware of Mary’s cold presence behind him, he was quick to grab the bags so he could leave, and didn’t flinch (again) when he heard what sounded to be a drawer slamming shut and the woman cry out in pain.

He didn’t know why people couldn’t leave him alone, couldn’t ignore him like he wanted. Why did they have to smile and talk to him? He wasn’t worth their attention, their attempts at friendship… or worse.

Mary tugged on his hair several times during the drive back to the flat, hard enough to make his scalp burn but not enough to distract him from the road ahead. She waited to ‘speak’ until they were inside with the door locked and deadbolted for the night.

/ _Did you have to encourage that slut_?/ Mary accused as she yanked on his hair again, that time hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“How did I do that?” Neil asked as he forced himself to carry the bags into the kitchen, the British accent slipping back into his voice since they were alone. “I didn’t even talk to her and I barely looked at her. Next time I’ll avoid her register,” he promised.

There was another tug to his hair, but that time it was almost gentle. / _Good. What have I told you about her kind?_ /

His head hurting and arms aching from the scratches from earlier which still throbbed, Neil set the bags on the counter and took a deep breath before he recited the words he knew by heart. “That relationships are evil and will only harm me. That people who try to trick me into one aren’t ever to be trusted, that they only want to hurt and use me.”

/ _Yes_./ That time Mary when stroked frigid fingers through his hair, he shivered from both the chill and the gentleness of the touch, from the rare show of affection. / _You need me to watch after you, to keep you from falling for their tricks, Abram_./

“I know, Mum. You’re always looking after me.” He gave her partially see-through form as grateful a smile as he could summon before he started on the groceries. “How about some tea?”

/ _Yes_./

Once the chicken was put away (most of it in the freezer, as he’d promised), he filled the kettle with fresh water and started it heating up on the stove, then decided that he wasn’t in the mood to cook that night and settled on a peanut butter sandwich with an apple for dinner. He’d just finished making the sandwich, the kitchen orderly once again with the groceries tucked into their places (it wasn’t hard to keep neat considering how little food he bought) when the kettle whistled, so he rinsed out the two mugs to warm them up before he dropped teabags in them.

Mary hovered over the steeping mug set out for her, a pleased expression on her incorporeal face, her long hair drifting about much like the tendrils of steam rising from the mug. Neil allowed his to steep a little longer while he ate the sandwich, the large apple saved for ‘dessert’.

His mother was quiet for about an hour or so, during which he cleaned up after his dinner and took to reading a book in Chinese in the living room’s only chair. / _How much longer are we going to stay here_?/ she asked as she floated around the bare room, her expression one of displeasure.

Neil marked his place in the book then hugged his knees up to his chest. “I told you, this is a good place for us and there’s no need to run anymore. The money’s enough for all my bills, no one’s questioning my past and I like what I do.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when she drifted closer. “He’s _dead_ , Mum. No one’s looking for us anymore.” No matter how many times he tried to convince her of that, it never ‘took’ for long; he didn’t know if it was because of all those horrible years of living with a monster, of the harsh time on the run or her terrible death, but she couldn’t move on from the past.

But wasn’t that what made a ghost a ghost?

(And who was he to throw stones at glass houses, when he lived with said ghost?)

There was a blast of freezing air, Mary’s displeasure made evident as she whirled around the chair and tugged on his hair once more as a furious, sparkling silver blur. / ** _Nowhere’s_** _good, Abram. Everywhere is full of liars and betrayers and murderers, did **he** teach you nothing? How many times did we think we were safe, only to run away in pain? **How many**?_ /

“Everywhere and always,” he gritted out as he forced himself to not lift his arms to protect his head, to try to shove her away (as if that would work). “But he’s _dead_ , Uncle Stuart killed him years ago. That doesn’t make anywhere safe, but… but that’s why I have you, yes?”

The whirling blast of cold eased up and the tugging stopped, right before Mary coalesced in front of him, her head downcast and wisps of hair floating in front of her face. / _Yes, that’s why I’m here, Abram. I have to watch after you, have to protect you_./

“I know, Mum,” he told her with a trembling smile. “You’ve always looked after me.” She taught him French and encouraged him to keep learning new languages when they were trapped in that nightmare of a home back in Baltimore as a means of distraction, to keep him busy and out of his father’s sight (as much as possible). When it had gotten to be more than just abuse, she’d stolen money and run away with him, had managed to keep them out of his father’s reach until that awful night in Seattle.

Even after Nathan had nearly caught them, had left them bloody and beaten, Mary fatally so, she hadn’t given up. Her spirit had lingered on after Neil (Nathaniel) had burned her body, had kept him going long enough to reach out to the Hatfords for help (at last).

Neil thought that Stuart suspected that Mary hadn’t entirely ‘moved on’ after her death, that he’d picked up on her presence around him. After all, Neil had gotten the whole ‘I see dead people’ from somewhere, and not that many other ghosts came around him with Mary constantly there, for which he was grateful. There had to be something special about the Hatford bloodline which allowed Mary to be so powerful as a spirit and to see them she’d been alive.

Or maybe it was just more of their lives (and afterlives) being fucked up and cursed.

The debate about him leaving his new life behind settled for the time being, Neil made some more tea and read a little longer, then went to take a shower before bed. He sighed at the sight of the long, red scratches along his arms and even a couple of across his chest (amidst all the scars), but none of them were deep enough to require any bandages.

That time.

He took care not to scrub them too hard while washing clean, and only looked into the mirror to check his roots (they would be fine for a few more days) before he removed the contacts and brushed his teeth for the night.

Once he was tucked beneath the heavy blankets, Mary took up position by the bed, a familiar sentinel which never tired, never wavered in her duty to watch over him. He missed how she used to sleep in the same bed as him, her back pressed to his, but knew that when he’d wake up from the nightmares that she’d be there to brush cold fingers along his sweaty brow to calm him down, to reassure him that she was there and all was safe.

He was Neil Josten (now), he had a home to call his own, one with a deadbolt and a comfortable bed (even with the gun under the pillow), with no ghosts of people cruelly murdered by his father (save Mary), no monsters in human flesh eager to hurt him lurking about to cause harm. He had a job where he got to help children, something that paid the bills (even if Uncle Stuart had set up an account for him) and allowed him to do something he enjoyed.

He had Mary to watch over him, ever and ever.

It was enough.

*******

Andrew wasn’t having a good day; he’d attempted to hook up with Roland only to find out his ‘non-relational-slash-nor-committal sexual partner’ (Bee was letting her disapproval show just a _little_ there) had a cold and so no no-strings-attached sexual relief (that wasn’t in the form of just his hand or a complete stranger, at least) for him that night. His left arm still ached from the door slamming into it the day before, Nicky was trying to organize some stupid family dinner (with _Katelyn_ invited), and for some reason, Jeremy Knox felt that Andrew wanted to listen to his nonsense while he prepared his morning coffee in the breakroom.

He eyed the flimsy wooden drink stirrers before he decided they weren’t thick enough to shove into his eye sockets and put himself out of his misery. Hmm, perhaps he could bundle a few together and shove them into _Knox’s_ eye sockets? Damn Wymack for insisting that he not bring his knives into the Foxhole, the whole ‘being armed around impressionable children’ argument and all (even if Andrew could understand about not upsetting his cases).

“-just think that Jean looks really tired lately, like he’s not getting enough sleep and something’s bothering him. What do you think? Should he see Betsy?”

Andrew finished stirring the copious amounts of sugar and creamer into his coffee then forced himself to throw away the wooden stirrer (unfortunately) before he walked away without answering the question; he didn’t give a damn about the Foxhole’s art therapist, a brooding French bastard who barely left the large room and always gave him a surly frown whenever he had to ask for supplies as if personally offended by Andrew’s presence.

“Andrew? Well? Can you maybe talk to Betsy? Or maybe suggest to Jean that-“

Andrew held up his left hand with the middle finger extended over his shoulder as he walked out of the breakroom, a silent message that Knox was on his own with Moreau and talking to Betsy, and slurped his coffee as Knox’s curses faded away behind him.

Hmm, maybe the day was starting to improve.

He went to his office to read up on his cases for the day while he drank his coffee, answered a few emails (despite what Wymack claimed, he did do that… for what he considered important ones). Renee had sent him an oddly phrased one asking if he was all right, to which he answered that she needed to stop building terrible chicken coops halfway across the world and get her ass back to real work.

Why wouldn’t he be all right?

He stared at his monitor for a couple of minutes while he rubbed his sore arm until a small pop-up appeared to remind him of his appointment with Peter, so he locked his pc and left his office. It didn’t come as any surprise that Josten was already in the room, dressed in another oversized sweater (dark grey that day), his hair in his face once again and eyes downcast.

“Do you shop at Goodwill or something?” Andrew asked, tired of seeing the man dressed in no-brand clothing that mostly obscured his lean form.

Josten was quiet for a moment before he tugged at his bangs. “What does it matter?”

“The pay might not be impressive, but Wymack makes sure we have enough to make a semi-decent living.” Andrew smoothed a hand down his own black dress shirt. “You can’t show up in court dressed like that.”

“I’ll worry about my clothes, you focus on Peter,” Josten said with a rare hint of emotion. “That’s your job, not me.”

Something about the man annoyed Andrew, made him want to get closer and see if he could ruffle that blank exterior, could figure out why Josten was such an unknown even after a few weeks. Yet when he took a step forward, for some reason his feet tangled together and he almost fell to his knees except for him latching on to the nearest bookshelf (with his _sore_ arm, of course). He ground his teeth and managed to right himself while goosebumps formed on his skin, another blast of cold air from the damn broken a/c, and all the while Josten merely stood there and watched.

Once he was back on his feet, Abby arrived with Peter, which meant that it was time to focus on work. It was another hour of talking through Josten as he tried to winnow some more details out of the boy about what had happened with his father, about where his mother had gone (or what had happened to her), where all Peter seemed to give up was that his prick of father was a ‘bad man’ and drew those red marks on the images which represented him and his mother.

After Abby took him away, Andrew gave Josten an intent look. “You’re not holding anything back, are you? Or mistranslating anything?” He hadn’t gotten that ‘email summary’ yet.

Josten sighed as he rubbed at his forehead. “No, I’m not. He’s very uncertain when it comes to speaking about his father, which makes me feel that he’s on the edge of confessing something, but he’s not quite there yet.” His hand dropped to rub at his right shoulder before he drew in a sharp breath and rubbed at his forearm instead. “I’m doing my job, dammit. If you’re doubting anything, record these sessions.” He peered at Andrew through the thick fall of his dark hair for a couple of seconds before he pushed away from the wall.

Andrew wasn’t certain that he meant to be so accusatory, so he held up his right hand as he struggled to find the right words to say (not to apologize, but perhaps to explain). However, Josten skittered out of reach as if Andrew had attempted to grab or hit him, something that made Andrew arch an eyebrow. “Jumpy much?”

“You think I’m not doing my job, can you blame me?” Josten threw back at him. “Just stay the fuck away from me and if you’ve a problem with what I’m doing, schedule an appointment with Wymack to complain.” He didn’t say anything else as he stomped out of the room.

Yes, just what Andrew wanted to do, listen to Wymack bitch. He slumped against a bookshelf as he rubbed his aching left arm while he thought about Josten’s reaction, as he gaged its sincerity, and decided that he didn’t need to subject himself to that particular torture just yet.

He had his suspicions with the young man, with the mysterious past and whole ‘leave me along’ schtick and why Josten chose to work in the public sector, but it did seem that Josten was doing his best when it came to the kids.

The kids were what mattered the most.

Still, perhaps he should join Kevin, Nicky and the others out one evening (as distasteful as it could be) to see if he couldn’t ‘persuade’ Seth into cracking Josten’s personnel files to dig into the man’s past a little. Couldn’t hurt, could it?

*******

/ _What is the point to this_?/ Mary asked as she whirled around the small office that Wymack had assigned to Neil when he’d accepted the job at Palmetto Services. / _These people mean nothing to you_ ,/ she stated as she poked at the blinds on the windows, disdain evident in her sharp voice.

Neil pitched his voice low since he didn’t want anyone walking by to hear him, especially since he was talking in the same British accent as his mother’s. “Because I’m helping kids,” he told her yet again. “Abused kids.” Kids much like he’d been, back in Baltimore, at least the physically abused ones.

Back before it appeared that if they stayed any longer in that house of horrors, that Nathan would kill them (or worse) before the year ended - Nathan or the ghosts of his victims - so Mary had stolen the money stashed inside the safe in his office and the two of them had run, had managed a few years in over twenty cities scattered across Europe and North America before he’d caught up to them, before he’d finally caught up and delivered the fatal blow to Mary.

Mary came to a halt so quickly that parts of her were out of place for a moment, a jumble of pieces like an impressionist painting of pale grey and iridescent parts that was disturbing to view until she was back to ‘normal’. / _You owe them nothing, Abram. Only family matters. Only the Hatfords matter_./

He braced himself for a harsh tug on his hair or a slap or scratch as he shook his head. “I know that, Mum, but I like helping these kids. It gives me something to do and I stand out less if I keep busy.”

There was a quick cuff to the back of his head, but it wasn’t that bad, really. / _You don’t have to work here_ ,/ she insisted.

“I have to work somewhere, what else am I going to do?” he argued, well aware that she didn’t want him to join in the ‘family business’. “I’m good at translating and this keeps me away from people’s attention, for the most part. I can’t keep running forever, not when Uncle Stuart went through all that effort to establish this ID for me.”

Mention of his uncle seemed to mollify his mother and she settled at last, though he knew he’d have to go through the whole argument again in a few more days or weeks. She was just looking out for him, on guard as always, caught in the loop where almost everyone was out to get them.

Maybe if they actually stayed in one place long enough, she’d get better and realize that things were safe now, that they could let the past go (as much as possible). Maybe. He hoped to give it a try for once, even if he never thought he’d find a ‘home’ in South Carolina.

He finished going through his emails for the morning and got up for his first assignment of the day, which was Peter Minkin. It meant dealing with Andrew Minyard, who left him a bit unnerved for some reason, so he preferred to get to the room early and keep even more distance than usual between him and someone else. It was already nerve-wracking to be in a place filled with items possessing such strong emotions attached to them from abused children touching them all the time, the abused children themselves, to have to deal with someone with an intent stare and strong presence as well (and mostly hidden armbands, even if weapons weren’t allowed on the premises).

Andrew Minyard might not be as talkative as his cousin (and hadn’t that been a surprise, to find out that he was related to Nicky Hemmick, considering their contrasting heights, complexions and hair color), but there was something about him that made Neil constantly aware of him all the same. While he was even shorter than Neil by a couple of inches (at least), he had a more powerful build with broad shoulders and chest which indicated that he’d be a challenge in a fight.

Something told Neil that it probably wouldn’t be a good thing, to spar with the man, even if he had Mary on his side as well. Especially with the way that he heard the others who worked at Palmetto Services (or the Foxhole, as everyone else called it) talk about Andrew, as if he was something dangerous to be treated with respect and care instead of a fellow coworker, even Nicky.

So he focused on translating, on giving Peter little bits of encouragement when he noticed the boy’s hesitation and uncertainty, such as that day when Andrew asked yet again if Peter remembered what had happened to his mother, if she’d gone away or fallen ill. Neil selected one of the newer stuffed animals, mindful to keep the sleeves of his sweater pulled over his fingers as much as possible, and approached the table (well out of Andrew’s reach).

“ _You don’t have to talk about your mother_ ,” he said in Russian as he knelt down with the Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal held out as an offering to Peter. “ _But I think you want to, don’t you? You miss her_.”

Peter was quick to snatch at the toy and gave a slight nod. “ _She… she always hugged me and held me close_ ,” he admitted. “ _Mama was always there for me_.”

“ _Mums are like that_ ,” Neil agreed with an encouraging smile while across the table, Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms across his broad chest, but he didn’t say anything. “ _I could always count on my mum to be there for me when things were bad, even with my father_.” He still could count on her and gave a quick glance to the partially see-through form floating not too far away.

Peter hugged the toy to his chest and fought back a sniffle. “ _I really do miss her. She told me to go to sleep, gave me a kiss like she did each night, and then there was all this noise and her screaming_.” He gazed at Neil through his lashes as if uncertain if he should admit that or not. “ _But she always told me to stay in bed if I heard anything after lights out, so I didn’t… it was so loud_ ,” he admitted with another sniffle.

 _“It’s okay_ ,” Neil assured him. “ _We always should listen to our mothers, they know best after all_.”

Tears filled Peter’s eyes at that. “ _But she was gone when I woke up the next day. Daddy said she went away and I haven’t seen her since. Was I bad_?”

“ _No, you were a good boy_ ,” Neil told him as he motioned for Andrew for some tissues, then spent a couple of minutes doing his best to reassure the child without touching him. When Peter finally calmed down and was back to drawing, Andrew motioned Neil aside.

“Well?” the case worker asked, his arms still folded over his chest and a stern look over his face.

“From what Peter just said, it’s safe to assume that his mother disappeared after a fight with his father. I’m not certain she left of her own will, if you know what I mean, since he said ‘noise and screaming’, and the fact that he was left behind.” He rubbed his hands along his arms as his mother pressed against his back, as she murmured about never leaving him while he spoke.

Andrew appeared thoughtful at that and glanced at Peter. “It’s a start, and should be enough to get a warrant to better search the apartment.”

“Good.” Neil nodded once and fought not to shiver. “Give him a little longer and I’ll help with a more formal statement.”

“Yes, my thoughts as well.” Andrew’s face smoothed out to its usual blankness and they returned to the table where Andrew asked some general questions and drew a few pictures with Peter, until the boy was smiling once more before he left with Abby.

The rest of Neil’s day was spent translating for Camila, one of Allison’s cases – and doing his best to avoid the woman once the session was done for the day, considering the way she kept offering to take him out to lunch or after work to buy new clothes. He didn’t think she meant it as anything more as a ‘friend’ since Matt had mentioned something about her dating a Renee Walker who was on a sabbatical, but she kept _pushing_ , which made Mary shift the carpet enough that Allison had tripped over it a couple of times with the high heels she always wore and moved the furniture around enough for her to run into it.

He was worried enough that one day, his mother would move beyond such ‘petty’ tricks.

There was the session with Dan Wilds and Park (or ‘Pat’, as he was nicknamed), who’d been left with an aunt and uncle who’d mistreated the twelve-year-old. Dan unnerved him a little, considering how serious she was, her focus on helping the children in her care and doing things right. He was afraid she’d notice Mary, that something wasn’t ‘right’ with him as well, and was on edge the entire hour he spent in the young woman’s presence.

Once back in his office, he went over his schedule for the rest of the week, the assessments he was expected to complete (such as Peter’s and a couple of other children’s) and that he would be working with a Jean Moreau tomorrow. He finished his work in a couple of hours and sent that long-promised email to Andrew before he left for the day, grateful to leave without running into anyone on his way to his car (such as Matt).

Since the weather was good that evening and he didn’t have anything else to do, he changed into a pair of sweatpants and layered some t-shirts (short-sleeved and long) before he went for a run once he got home, enjoying the chance to burn off some energy for an hour or so before he returned home to cook a quick meal of ramen with chicken thighs, radishes, yams and some left-over mushrooms after he showered. He ate it while looking over the news on his laptop, Mary a cold presence by his left shoulder, mindful to search for any remnants of his father’s small organization (for any of the names of the people that Stuart and Will thought had escaped the purge in Baltimore about almost seven years ago) then put away the leftovers before he washed the dishes and read a little before going to bed.

He had a nightmare of being back in Baltimore, in that ostentatious house (mansion) bought on the drugs and guns his father had sold, from the blood of so many people his father had killed and maimed (a true ‘Butcher’ indeed), of when Neil (Nathaniel) had to be about seven years or so. It might have been when someone from the city had come by to talk to his father during the day, both of his parents in the parlor with pasted smiles on their faces as they promised to attend some important function or another, while Nathaniel attempted to be good and quiet (necessary things to survive in the house, to avoid unwanted _lessons_ and _pain_ and _scars_ ).

Planning on retreating into the garden (in case his father wanted to show him off – going up to his bedroom with the salt lines hidden beneath the carpet and the wards painted with glue on the walls so he could at least sleep safe at night was out of reach just then), he had almost made it to the one side door when Lola stepped out of the office with a wide grin on her face – Lola and a ghost hovering behind her left shoulder, some gaunt young man with empty eye sockets and a gaping chest cavity.

Nathaniel was so startled that he knocked into the old vase with the blue birds and flowers on a white background, the vase his father always fussed over, and let out a faint cry when it rocked back and forth on its stand before tumbling to the ground. He dashed forward to catch it, only to be pulled back by Lola.

“Ah, what are you-“ Lola blinked as the vase somehow ended up back on the stand (as the ghost shoved it back in place), then gave a vicious twist to Nathaniel’s arm. “You’ve been bad, Junior. Look what you almost did! Do you know how much that thing’s worth? What your father would do to you if it broke?”

He did know, considering how many times he’d been ‘punished’ when he’d been caught running in the hallway by his father, and could only brace himself for Lola twisting his arm, for the pain that went through him as she dragged him back into the office, as-

As he gasped for air, a sharp inhale that was a cloudy exhale of condensation due to the chill in the air from his mother’s presence as she all but draped herself over his body as he lay in the twin bed. “Thank you,” he managed to mumble as he hugged the heavy blankets tighter around his shivering figure.

/ _Your father_?/ Mary guessed as she combed most insubstantial fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

“More like Lola,” he admitted. “I almost broke that damn vase he loved so much.” A bitter smile twisted his lips as he thought about the vase, supposedly one of the first items Nathan Wesninski had bought once he’d established himself as a ‘legitimate’ businessman; of course the man would love an inanimate object more than his own son and wife.

 Mary made a hissing sound reminiscent of a boiling kettle. / _That thing_./ She floated away from the bed as the chill in the air increased. / _He always did adore his signs of wealth and status so much_./

And for so long, Mary and ‘Nathaniel’ had been part of those things, until they ran away, until they disobeyed him, Neil supposed. /It’s probably dust by now, that or sold off at auction,” he told her as he settled further into the bed.

/Yes, I suppose./ Mary resumed her usual spot at the side of his bed, so Neil closed his eyes once more and let exhaustion drag him back into unconsciousness, and was grateful when he didn’t wake up until the alarm sounded in the morning.

It was the usual routine of tea, toast and fruit for breakfast then getting ready before driving into work where he went through his email upon logging on. After that he went off to deal with Andrew and his other cases, ate his lunch (a peanut butter sandwich at his desk) before he met Jean Morneau and Karima at 2pm. He read the few notes that Wymack had sent him about the art instructor and his newest ‘client’, so he felt that he was prepared when he stepped into the large studio in the east wing of the building.

He wasn’t prepared.

As soon as he entered the room with the windows along the two walls which let in a flood of sunlight and smelled of acrylic paint, he felt a rush of cold and a nauseous twist to his stomach which almost resulted in him throwing up the peanut butter sandwich. Mary hissed in fury and whirled around him, intent on protecting him from the unknown spirit and so blocked his sight for a moment, so all he heard for a moment was the sound of curious children’s voices and a faint screech in the distance. When his mother finally settled as a frigid presence against his back, he stepped a little further into the room and noticed the tall, unhappy-looking man standing off to the side… and the spirit hovering near him.

Jean Moreau had black hair, grey eyes and a lingering French accent as he called out Neil’s name, which made Neil wonder at what seemed to be an Asian appearance of the ghost next to him, a young man in his late teens or early twenties. There was such a sense of malevolence and possessiveness to the spirit, along with rage, that he was grateful for his mother’s presence; the spirit attempted to rush at him, only to be ‘shoved’ back when Mary took position in front of Neil, her aura so much more powerful than the other ghost’s.

Neil wasn’t certain that Jean could see Mary, but he seemed to sense something and drew in a sharp breath when the other spirit was knocked across the room. “You… you’re here for Karima, yes?” he asked as he motioned to a quiet young girl with long dark hair standing off the side.

“Yes,” Neil agreed, and the two of them went over to her so Neil could talk to her a little, could explain what Moreau expected her to do for the ‘lesson’ of the day (they were drawing what they considered dream homes) and how she could ask for assistance through Neil.

She seemed eager to join in and spent a few minutes talking ‘to’ Jean, in learning where everything was and having him help her start on the project, then Jean moved along the rest of the students while Neil remained with Karima a while longer to be certain that she was settled in and help introduce her to a couple of other students. Once everyone was busy, Jean motioned him off to the side once again.

All the while, the other spirit raged on the peripheries of the room, a few posted pictures fluttering as if caught in a breeze and a small sculpture toppling over, which the students ignored in their excitement.

Neil noticed it, though, mindful of Mary as always, and so did Jean, judging from the tension in his shoulders and the way his grey eyes darted back and forth.

“You… you know French, yes?” Jean asked in a quiet voice once Neil approached, and switched to it when Neil nodded. “ _Thank you for helping with the girl, it’s been trying to get through to her with the language barrier_.” When all Neil did was say that it was his job, Jean gave him a weighted look then glanced around the room once again – especially the area where the other spirit was looming and at the three corners where Neil finally noticed that unfamiliar sigils had been hung.

The spirit, checked by Mary’s more powerful presence, seethed in the distance with such animosity that Neil was left to wonder about those sigils, about the way that Jean went about the rest of the afternoon with a weak smile on his face and shoulders hunched as if braced for a blow. He could tell that the man wanted to ask him something, but how did one come out and say ‘can you _see_ it, too? Do you have a ghost following you around as well?’ and not sound insane? Especially if you were wrong?

“I don’t think it’s protecting him,” Neil said as they returned to the flat. “What were those sigils?” He’d never seen them before; Mary had taught him several, and there’d been a couple of books back in Stuart’s library. Yet none of the ones he knew had relied upon what looked to be such Christian symbolism like those in the art room.

/ _Protection wards_ ,/ Mary told him, the disdain evident in her voice. / _Someone thinks they’re all clued up on things, but made them too obvious and one went missing or got destroyed and the spirit got back in_./ A harsh buzz that was her laugh filled Neil’s head. / _Should have just exorcised the bastard_./

He nodded even as he shuddered at the thought of someone doing that to his mother, at her being forced into oblivion, and the rest of the drive was spent in silence. She remained close to him during his run that night, and he’d just started on dinner (more ramen) when Stuart called.

“Doing all right, kiddo?”

Neil smiled at his uncle’s familiar greeting. “Yes, thank you, and you?”

“Eh, it sucks getting old,” Stuart complained, even though Neil didn’t think of early fifties as that ‘old’; though to be fair, at one point he never thought he’d make it to twenty-four. “But what can we do about it? Beats the alternative.”

“I’m sure if you tell Anderson to ‘fuck off’ again to his face, Uncle Will can do something about that for you.” Neil smiled a little when he remembered how furious his older uncle had been about that ‘faux pas’, now that it was in the past (and he was an ocean away from the older man).

Stuart groaned upon having his mistake brought up. “Insolent little bugger, just like your mother.” Then he cleared his throat while Mary gave a slight tug to Neil’s hair, either for bringing up the memory or for her name being ‘slandered’. “Ah, seriously, you doing all right, Abram? How’s the job? You make any friends yet?”

Neil’s good mood faded as he looked out at the barely furnished flat. “The job’s going great,” he assured his uncle. “Thanks for helping to set it up. And the people are friendly there, they’re nice.”

“’Nice’, eh? Are you hanging out with them? Doing something other than just sitting around at home?” When Neil remained quiet, Stuart sighed. “You… you’re young, Abram. You need to let go… you need to let go of the past.”

He flinched, both at the words and the harsh tug on his hair. “I’m fine,” he assured his uncle. “I’ve barely been here a couple of months, I’m still settling in. Give me a little longer.”

It was quiet over the line for several seconds before Stuart sighed. “Okay, a little longer. Been thinking of taking a vacation, maybe I’ll come for a visit.” That surprised Neil, both Stuart taking a break from the family ‘business’ and stopping by; it had been agreed that Neil (Nathaniel) wouldn’t go into the family ‘business’ since Mary hadn’t wanted that for him, even though he stayed in touch with the Hatfords by calls and emails. One of them visiting like that wasn’t the best… especially someone so closely tied to Mary.

Someone who might be able to sense Mary.

Someone who pushed Neil to ‘move on’ from Mary.

He talked to Stuart a little more after that, just ‘every day’ things, and couldn’t finish his meal once the call was over. Mary was in a foul mood for the rest of the evening, so he made several cups of tea and did his best to read a book, then went to bed.

His dreams (nightmares) were of the two of them on the run from his father, of the constant fear and pain and exhaustion, only for it to end on a beach one night in California, the glow of a burning car behind him as he buried the charred remains of his mother’s body.

Except her spirit didn’t appear as the water lapped closer and closer to him as he knelt on the damp sand, hollowed out of everything but an overwhelming grief and despair. That time she was gone, truly gone, leaving him alone and unprotected as his father and Lola and DiMaccio closed in behind him and-

And he woke up to nails scratching along his scarred right shoulder, the pain a welcome relief from the nightmare. Since it was only about twenty minutes before his alarm was about to go off, he got out of bed and washed away the sweat with a hot shower, and forced himself to finish the leftovers from the evening before for breakfast.

In the need of some caffeine to keep him going for the day, he ventured into the breakroom for some coffee and did his best to pretend that he didn’t see Nicky waving him over to join in the small group of people by the vending machine as he fetched a mug.

“-that he tripped over someone’s dog that was off its leash,” one of the sports therapists (Knox) said, a worried expression on his face. “I don’t know why he’s in today.”

“Well, Jean’s stubborn and he hates letting the kids down.” Dan gave a weak laugh as she leaned against Matt. “We all know how it is.”

Neil forced himself not to tense when he heard Jean’s name and hurried to pour himself a cup of coffee, then to leave the room; he heard Nicky call out his name, then curse about something (Mary caught up to him in the hallway).

It was difficult to concentrate after that as he worried about the young Frenchman, as he thought about his childhood in Baltimore and hiding bruises (and burns and cuts), about lying to various adults when it came to explaining his latest injury or even broken bone. When he remembered the taste of cheap whisky and leather between his teeth while his mother stitched together the latest wound so they wouldn’t have to go to the hospital, so they could keep on running without being slowed down.

At least he had the kids to focus on, translating their words as Andrew slowly drew out more details from Peter, as Dan dealt with Pat, as Allison slowly built up Camila’s confidence. When it came time for Karima and Jean, he braced himself for the one spirit’s antagonistic presence and went off to the art room.

Two fingers of Jean’s left hand were in splints and he walked around with a slight limp as he helped the children grab their art supplies, and his left cheek appeared a little puffy (make-up to hide the bruise, Neil suspected). A few of the children gave their instructor concerned or sad looks, probably familiar with one of their parents or a family member sporting such injuries, but Jean acted as if nothing had happened.

Neil was familiar with seeing such things, with acting that way. He cast a surreptitious look at the spirit once again forced into the far corner by Mary, and picked up a sense of smugness beneath displeasure and possessiveness.

He was kept busy for a while assisting Karima and translating back and forth while Jean asked about her drawing, what it made her feel and why she’d decided on certain colors and items in it, what she thought about if one or two things were changed. Then he moved on to other students and let Neil translate as Karima built up a hesitant friendship with another young girl, Ashley.

He caught Jean staring at him as he (and Mary) left, his expression a mix of fear and hope and uncertainty.

Neil didn’t say anything until after dinner, which he once again barely ate, when he got up and went into the bedroom to fetch a small wooden box he’d tucked into the back of the top dresser drawer. Mary blasted the room with coldness, enough so he could see his breath in the air as he set the box on top of the furniture.

/ ** _Abram_**./

“It’s not what you think,” he told her as he opened the box to reveal seven iron rings; Stuart hadn’t asked anything when he’d shown up with them and little else (a few sets of worn clothes, a binder full of bonds and false IDs and information to help live on the run, a bag of salt and some bandages), had just taken them one day and returned them to a frantic Neil resized to fit his larger fingers. “I think… something has to be done about that spirit. If it’s harming Moreau, there’s no telling when it’ll start on the children.”

The chill slowly lessened, especially once he closed the box again. / _Pack some salt as well, you’ll do things right_ ,/ she chided him with a light smack to the middle of his back.

“Yes, Mum.”

He managed to sleep without nightmares that night, exhausted from the last few and mostly settled since he’d decided to do something. Mary made him eat breakfast (toast and some pomegranate seeds washed down with tea), and he bagged some salt which went into his coat pocket before he slipped on the rings as he got dressed.

Mindful not to gesture near Mary while he wore the rings, he went into work (and set off the metal detector, which earned him some odd looks over the cause). He kept his head down and ignored any attempts to call out his name on his way to the office, mindful of the weight of the rings on his fingers and what might be in the east wing, and didn’t talk to anyone until his first case of the day.

For some reason, Andrew didn’t seem to be in a good mood (not that man showed much emotion); he was patient with Peter and not visibly upset or angry with the young boy, but there was a tightness to his strong jaw and a coolness in his eyes whenever he looked at Neil as if he’d offended the other man somehow. Neil spent a minute or two going over their recent interactions, but other than Mary’s ‘tricks’ and Neil refusing to have coffee for him (which hadn’t caused much reaction at the time), he couldn’t think of any reason for the brusqueness.

Dan was excited about Pat opening up a little more, about the boy returning her overtures of friendship, and tried to get Neil to agree to a ‘Foxes’ meet-up (some coworker thing) that weekend, which he turned down, along with Allison’s invite to lunch. He wasn’t pleased with having to work with Betsy Dobson on some evaluations, since he found the woman’s intent nature very disturbing, and was on edge the entire hour while he did his best to watch his mother without seeming to do just that and make sure she didn’t go after the psychiatrist because of his disquiet.

When it came time for his appointment with Karima, he tucked the bag of salt in the waistband of his jeans and rubbed his thumbs over the rings around his fingers, one by one. Allison had commented on them (had made a comment about them being a bit ‘kitschy’) but no one else had noticed them considering how he’d kept his sleeves pulled over his fingers all day.

/ _When will you do it_?/

“After the children are gone,” Neil said beneath his breath when it was just the two of them in the hallway. That way they wouldn’t be harmed if the spirit put up much of a fight (even with Mary there), and in case Jean protested him dispelling it (for whatever reason).

/ _I’ll keep it contained until then_ ,/ she assured him, which helped to loosen some of the tension inside his chest.

Jean appeared even worse that day, and had to chase a concerned Knox out of the room; his limp was more pronounced and his left wrist was in a brace. Neil caught an iridescent blur as the spirit went to chase after Knox, but Mary moved to interfere and drive it back into the corner before anything could happen save for a stack of colored paper to be knocked onto the floor.

“I’ll get that,” Neil offered while Jean stood there with eyes wide (the right one was definitely bruised beneath make-up), then he hurried over to talk to Karima.

Mary had her immaterial hands full with the spirit (Neil thought he’d definitely been Asian when alive) while the children completed their drawings and Jean congratulated them on their artistic ability, spending time with each child to complement them on something, to build up confidence (and clearly note down what they’d drawn and why). He talked about the project for the following week, about how they’d construct the building out of materials of their choice and was paying attention to their reactions as they went over to a table covered with paper, felt, thin sticks and so forth. Karima and the children were excited as they examined the items and chattered about various possibilities.

There was an ache in Neil’s chest as he watched them; even abused as they’d been, a couple of them bearing obvious scars, they still had a chance for a ‘normal’ childhood, to heal and move on and recapture all the things that they should have had in the first place (a safe home, a life free of nightmares and pain and scars). They didn’t have to wake up wondering if that would be the day that they died, if their parent would finally kill them, if the agony and horror would finally overwhelm them.

They got a second chance while they were still young enough, still innocent, before the they didn’t know anything but lies and running and the feel of sharp blades digging deep.

He’d do whatever he could to protect that second chance.

Soon enough it was time for them to leave, to go back to their foster homes or families, that or more therapy for a couple of them, which left him with Jean and Mary and the spirit. Jean made to return to his desk when he noticed that Neil wasn’t leaving. “Yes? Is there something with Karima?”

“ _No, not her_ ,” Neil said in French as he went to lock the door after checking that there wasn’t anyone in the hallway, especially Knox. “ _You want to ask me something, go ahead and ask it_.”

Jean’s grey eyes widened; they reminded Neil of how Mary’s, back when she’d been alive. “You….” He gave a pointed look in the general direction of where the spirit was held at bay. “ _You… you’re doing something to… what are you doing? How are you stopping **him**_?”

“ _You mean the spirit, don’t you_?” Neil felt a small spike of amusement when Jean started at the word. “ _What is he to you_?”

Jean was quiet as he hugged his injured left arm to his chest for a couple of seconds then gave a sad, defeated laugh. “ _A living nightmare for too long, and then he died_.” He gazed at Neil with weary despair. “ _He killed himself and I thought that was the end of it_ ,” the spirit roared in fury at those words, which made Jean flinch, “ _only to appear as a demon to taunt me a few months later. Someone tried to help me_ ,” he motioned to the remaining wards around the room, “ _but someone, perhaps one of the children, removed the wards she set up here to keep me safe. That only made him worse_.”

“Okay,” Neil said as he wondered who that ‘she’ was, if they were like him and his mother, and rolled up his sleeves to leave his hands free.

“ _Can you… can you see him_?” Jean asked, incredulousness heavy in his deep voice. _“What are you doing to hold him back_?”

“ _Yes, and all you need to know is I’m about to get rid of him for you_ ,” Neil explained as the spirit roared once more and tried to rush past Mary, only to be stopped short by her power. “ _No objections, right_?” It would be easier if he didn’t have to subdue Jean first.

“ _Get rid of_ -“ Jean’s eyes grew even wider as he shook his head. “No. _No_!” He took a few trembling steps further away from the spirit and nearly collapsed against a table while he stared at Neil as if he was a spirit himself. “ ** _How_**?”

“ _You’ll see. Just stay out of the way and don’t speak, okay_?” Neil told him as he pulled out the bag of salt and opened it. Once Jean nodded, the motions curt and deep, he focused on his mother and the spirit.

/ _Do it now, Abram_ ,/ Mary said. / _This one deserves to be sent back to Hell_./

He wasn’t the only one, but he was there in front of Neil so…. Neil grabbed two handfuls of salt and set the rest of the bag on a nearby table as Mary flowed toward him, the enraged spirit quick to give chase, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees with each second, each breath.

Once it was close enough, Neil flung the rough grains of salt at the spirit and focused his power, as he imagined the element holding the spirit still even as it drained away its energy. “Go away,” he told it as he let his talent flow through his body and into his hands, into his fingers which bore the iron rings. “You’re unwanted, unwelcome and cast out.” His breath condensed in the air because of the cold, the iron bit into his skin as he slashed his hands through the screeching spirit, yet he concentrated on his desire, on the need to see the creature gone and its ties to the material world broken.

He repeated the casting two more times (the ties between it and Jean were that powerful) before there was an awful shriek and the spirit finally dissipated, before his talent flared then settled inside of him and the cold loosened its hold on the room. A gentle touch stroked over his head while he fought not to fall to his knees, worn out from the exorcism, and his hands trembled as he struggled to remove the rings.

/ _Not too bad. Next time you need to be faster, though_ ,/ Mary told him as she tugged at his hair.

Meanwhile, Jean nearly fell off the table in an uncoordinated jumble of limbs, his expression one of pure disbelief. _“He’s… he’s gone_?” he asked in a husky whisper as he glanced around the room. “ _I don’t… I don’t **feel** him anymore_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Neil assured the man; no spirit he or his mother had ever dispelled had come back as of yet. “ _You should be_ -“

They were interrupted by someone attempting to open the door, followed by a banging noise which made Jean jump. “Jean? Are you still here?” Knox called out. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Jean assured the man, “just cleaning up.”

“Oh, okay. Do you need anyone to walk you to your car?”

“Neil has already offered.”

He had? Neil gave Jean a bland look for that presumption, but he supposed it would allow them to talk in private, while Jean shrugged and appeared apologetic.

“Oh.” Knox sounded disappointed for some reason. “Well, call me if you need anything, all right?”

“Have a good night, Jeremy,” Jean said, his tone slightly annoyed as he limped over to his desk to grab his coat and a small messenger bag.

“Good night.”

At least the man was gone by the time they left the room; Jean accompanied Neil back to his office so he could gather his coat and bag as well, neither of them saying a word during the walk. They garnished an odd look or two from some colleagues at the two of them being together, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry to leave since it was a Friday.

Jean groaned as he leaned against the hood of his car, probably from the sore ankle and the stress catching up to him, while Neil just wanted to get home and take a nap. “ _He’s really gone_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Neil assured the man. “ _No more need for wards, at least because of him_.”

“ _I see_.” Jean was hesitant for a moment as he gazed at the asphalt between his feet then let out a slow breath. “ _My parents… well, they did foolish things and owed debts to dangerous people_.” Neil stilled at those last few words. “ _And what better way than to pay off those debts than sell off a child, no_?” Jean attempted to make light of what must have been hell for him, his smile lopsided but eyes bleak as he looked at Neil and gestured back to the building behind them. “ _Not a unique story, I’m afraid_.”

“ _No, it’s not_ ,” Neil admitted. “ _I’m sorry_.”

“ _Somehow… somehow I think you understand_ ,” Jean said, and let out another breath when Neil gave a slow nod; there had been a value to a child who could see spirits, Nathan had found out, which was in part what had led Mary to take him, the money and flee when he was ten years old. “ _I ended up with a man and his nephew, and was considered Riko’s – it was his ghost you just exorcised. Riko was… well, he was a monster when he was alive_ ,” Jean confessed as he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered despite the thick wool coat he wore. “ _When the police finally caught up to him and his uncle, he chose to kill himself rather than go to prison and I thought I was free_.” Jean’s smile turned self-mocking as he shook his head. “ _I should have known I wasn’t that lucky_.”

Yet Jean had done his best to move on despite his abuser haunting him, had chosen a career where he helped abused children, where he tried to find some beauty in life and showed it to them. “ _He’s definitely gone this time_ ,” Neil promised. “ _He’s not coming back a third time_.”

Jean gazed at him with a weariness that slowly gave way to a desperate hope. “ _You swear it_?”

Neil recognized the brittleness behind the words, the inability to take anymore pain, anymore blows. “ _I do_ ,” he answered as he held that gaze, Mary an unyielding presence at his back.

They stared at each other for several seconds before Jean let out a broken sob, yet his eyes remained dry. “ _Thank you_ ,” he said, the words faint yet heart-felt. “ _That… it means so much_.”

Yes, it did when the monster who’d destroyed so much of you was no more; Neil could still remember sitting curled up on the bed in the small flat Stuart and Will had stashed him in outside of Leeds, the blankets tucked all around him as if walls to keep him safe and the phone clutched in his trembling hand as Stuart’s exhausted yet proud voice announced that Nathan Wesninski was dead.

Lost in the memory, he was startled when Jean pushed away from the car and braced himself just in time for a clumsy hug. “Thank you,” Jean repeated in English before he pressed a quick kiss against Neil’s forehead, then pulled away before Mary could shove him aside. As it was, Neil could feel her displeasure over the intimate gesture, over someone touching him, the same time he shivered at the powerful remnants of relief/disbelief/gratitude that had flooded him from the touch.

/ _Foolish Abram_!/ Mary shouted as she yanked on his hair. / _How could you let him do that_? _What have I told you?_ /

“I know,” Neil said as he braced himself for another of her lessons as Jean drove away. “He’s just thankful, he didn’t mean it.” He was certain that Jean meant it as anything other than a show of gratitude, but it wasn’t worth arguing with his mother; wiser just to endure and ensure that the man didn’t do such a thing again.

He was good at enduring.

*******

Andrew should have known that things wouldn’t stay ‘good’ for long, that he would just end up jinxing himself in the end. Pleased with the progress he was making with Peter and that Sarah, Laila’s cop girlfriend, had reported that the expanded search warrant had turned up copious amounts of blood as well as other indicators that someone had been gravely if not mortally injured in the Minkin home… well, he’d felt a slight bit of satisfaction and agreed to meet up with Roland when the man had sent a text that he was feeling better on Thursday night.

It had been a while, after all, and Andrew wasn’t big on hooking up with strangers while home in Columbia; he liked to keep things like that compartmentalized and controlled (and oh did Bee have a lot to say about that). Roland was a known quantity and trusted (trusted _enough_ ), was known to his family and a few friends, was lacking in surprises and strings. After everything that had happened to Andrew before he’d met Bee back in Oakland, back when he’d had no control, no power… he was never going to let what few urges he allowed himself to have such sway over his life.

So he’d met up with Roland for a few drinks on the man’s night off from bartending and gone back to Roland’s apartment, and been in the middle of blowing his brains out (figuratively) when Andrew found himself wondering what Josten of all people would look like without his clothes on and pressed against a wall, if he was circumcised or not, had any tattoos or piercings or-

He’d just managed to finish the blowjob before he pulled back on his shirt and left Roland’s place, much to the man’s confusion and the plans to get himself off that night.

Whatever the hell had _that_ been?

It wasn’t even as if Josten spoke to Andrew or anything, other than to be offended that Andrew had dared to accuse him of not doing his job, talk about Peter or turn him down. Andrew was fucked up, that wasn’t in question, and yes, the man was attractive even if he dressed as if he was one step above homeless, but seriously?

It may be time to consider that there was something really, really, _really_ wrong with Andrew. Way beyond fucked up wrong. Perhaps Bee could come up with a new terminology for it and get her name in all the medical and text books, a long overdue ‘thanks’ for putting up with his shit for the past twelve years or so.

He barely got any sleep Thursday night, which didn’t help things at all, but at least he had coffee for the next morning. Determined to throw himself into work, he got there earlier than usual and tried to track down Seth to see about Josten’s file, but didn’t have any luck that morning; he was certain the asshole was selling cigarettes to the older kids and just had to catch him in the act to have his blackmail material.

Josten was quiet as usual during their session with Peter, who told a few more stories about his mother which would help Sarah build a case against his father; while the boy ‘talked’, Andrew studied Josten and once again attempted to figure out ‘why’, what it was that made him obsess about the young man. He thought he caught a glimpse of a pale ring of color inside the dark circle of brown a couple of times when Josten glanced his way, but the translator always looked back down before he was certain.

Interesting.

_Dammit._

According to Nicky, there was some get-together planned for the employees (‘Foxes’ as they called themselves, how clever), a movie before dinner and drinks, but Andrew declined once he found out that Josten wouldn’t be there, unwilling to suffer the presence of idiots for that long. There was another mysterious email from Renee as well, asking if everyone at the Foxhole was all right, if he’d noticed anything ‘strange’ (other than a certain mysterious translator driving him crazy? No) and telling him to be careful (too late to warn him about murderous doors, thanks a lot for nothing).

Eager to be away from everyone and enjoy a quiet weekend at home where he was alone except for a stack of books and a comfortable bed and some alcohol, Andrew had stepped out onto the parking lot when he noticed Moreau and Josten standing together in the distance near Moreau’s crossover hatchback. Both of them had serious expressions on their faces, implying that it wasn’t a casual discussion, and then Moreau stood up in a rush and gave Josten a hug then a kiss on the forehead before he got into the vehicle to drive off.

Andrew paused in surprise (he was _just_ caught off-guard) at that show of affection, especially since Josten supposedly kept his distance from _everyone_ and Knox had been trying to get Moreau’s attention ever since the stuck-up art therapist had started working at the Foxhole. Had the two men hit it off while working together? Did that mean that Josten was gay?

Josten stood still while Moreau’s car left the parking lot, then spun toward his own car, some beat-up hatchback several parking spots away. He took a few steps then faltered as if dizzy, took a couple more and fell to his knees as if something had knocked him down.

“Josten?” Andrew called out as he ran across the parking lot to see what the hell was wrong with the man – was he sick? Had he tripped over something? Yet as he approached, Josten managed to right himself, his left hand partially covering his face as he fumbled for his keys. “What the hell is going on?”

“’m fine,” Josten murmured as he stumbled toward his car.

“Right, that’s why you can barely walk. Come on, let Abby look at you,” Andrew said as he went to grab at the idiot’s right sleeve since he knew how reluctant Josten was to interact with others.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Josten gritted out as he jerked his arm away and nearly fell over; Andrew caught sight of a cut or scratch along his forehead which caused blood to pour down his face.

Shivering because of the cold air, Andrew shook his head. “You can’t drive home like that, have Abby take care of it,” he said as he once more reached for the idiot’s sleeve – except _something_ slammed into his chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him as well as off his feet and a yard or two backwards.

 _Something_ he couldn’t see, especially since Josten didn’t move other than away from him.

 _Something_ cold enough to make his next breath burn its way down his lungs, the air around him had turned that frigid in the space of adrenalin-driven heartbeats.

Josten stared at him with eyes gone wide with surprise or perhaps panic before he stuttered something out (‘sorry’ perhaps) in a ragged voice possessing an odd accent (British?) then all but lunged for his car, his hand nearly dropping the keys, it trembled that much, before he managed to get the door open and almost fell inside. Wincing in pain (he suspected bruised ribs), Andrew had picked himself off the ground (add scraped palms to the list of complaints) and watched as the hatchback peeled out of the parking lot as if being chased by the police.

It appeared that _he_ would be the one visiting Abby, what a fun way to start his Friday evening. Though maybe he’d get some good pain pills out of it.

It also appeared that he needed to follow up on that email from Renee and figure out what the hell was going on with her and a certain mysterious, _interesting_ new coworker.

*******

 


	2. Devil May Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, for those of you still around and reading my stories, thank you very much.
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posts, but work has been (still is) insane and then... well, finally getting back in the mood to write. Got some snippets on the [http://nekojitachan.tumblr.com/tagged/nekojitachanfics](%E2%80%9Dtumblr%E2%80%9D) which I need to post here as well, and I hope to get back to Raven's Partner next.
> 
> Anyway, new chapter! Uhm... think the warnings in this one are still Mary and her treatment of Neil, very vague references to Andrew's past, also vague references to child abuse and attempted yet failed child trafficking (again, the Foxes work in Child Services so the children who come to them have been through things, but nothing explicit is ever mentioned or detailed, just very brief mentions of what brought them there), as well as violence from Neil's childhood with Nathan. Any questions, hit me up on Tumblr, and if there are any missing tags, let me know.  
> *******

 

*******

“It wasn’t like that,” Neil argued with his mother as he held gauze against the cut on his forehead to staunch the blood. “He was just grateful, it didn’t mean anything more than that.”

The blinds on the small window in the bathroom rattled against the glass as Mary whirled about, her mostly transparent body partially fractured into pieces due to her agitation until she resembled a figure in a badly-jointed, washed-out stained glass window. / _That’s not any better, Abram. Gratitude can lead to affection and more_./ For a moment her body splintered into thousands of tiny pieces before she reassembled next to him; he fought not to shiver from her nearness, to not flinch when he felt her fingers card through his tangled hair. / _Don’t repeat my mistakes, don’t **ever** repeat my mistakes_./ There was a slight tug on the strands for a moment, then she resumed combing through them again.

“I know, Mum, and I won’t,” he promised with a sad smile. “You’ll never let me.”

/ _No, I won’t_ ,/ she swore in return before something icy pressed against his forehead, near the gauze, and a mix of love/worry/determination/fear/possessiveness poured into him for a moment. / _Tend to that so you can start packing, we need to leave_./

He sighed and removed the gauze so he could clean the wound, and focused on tending to it (not bad enough to require stitches, thankfully) and the other scratches, to clean and bandage them so they didn’t get infected. It was something he was used to doing by then, the small injuries inflicted upon him by his mother nothing like the cuts and bullet wounds and fractures he’d suffered from his father or the man’s people before he’d gone to live with Uncle Stuart, and it gave him time to gather his thoughts and come up with an argument against his mother’s latest demand to leave Columbia.

The worst of the scratches tended to, he was debating on if the ones along his left ribs needed band-aids or not when someone rang the doorbell. Mindful of gun in the bedroom, Neil grabbed the sheathed knife he kept stashed on the shelf near the shower holding towels and went to investigate who was at the door – he wasn’t expecting a visitor.

He had to stand on his toes to look out the peephole, and shoved the knife down the back waistband of his pants upon seeing that it was a FedEx deliveryman wearing what appeared to be an authentic uniform. Mary hovered near the side of the door, ready to intervene if needed, as he opened it.

“Neil Josten?” the middle-aged man asked with a friendly smile once the door was cracked open a slight bit. “I’ve a package for you.” It was on the large size but didn’t look too heavy. “Please sign for it.”

Mary watched as Neil accepted the box, which made the man shiver and complain about the cold, but Neil was reassured when he noticed that the package was from the UK; as soon as he touched it, he could filter through the various layers of people who’d handled it to ‘feel’ Aunt Miriam’s affection and concern. Once it was set inside of the flat, he entered his name on the electronic device (the sleeves of his sweater extended over his fingers so he didn’t have to endure anymore strange emotions), and nodded as the delivery man wished him a good night before walking away.

/ _Abram? What is it? Why did you accept it_?/

“It’s from Aunt Miriam,” he explained as he picked up the package, wincing a little from the various emotions tied to the box (the people unhappy with their jobs) as well as the tug on various scratches and his sore knees. “Let’s see what she sent, all right?”

/ _You should be packing_ ,/ Mary reminded him, but without as much force as before, a clear sign that she was curious as well about the box’s contents.

He used the knife to cut the tape on the box, mindful of its contents, and drew in a slow breath when he unfolded the lids and packing paper to reveal a beautiful, pale blue and cream blanket knitted from soft wool in a thick cable stitch pattern bearing the scent of lavender, as he picked up on the affection and concern attached to the items.

/ _That’s one of your gram’s_ ,/ Mary told him, her face soft with reminiscing. / _She made dozens of them, they were all over the house in East London_./

“It’s beautiful,” Neil said as he carefully set it on the nearby chair, and revealed carefully wrapped items which turned out to be various knickknacks such as an intricately carved walnut box perfect for holding small items and candlestick holders, a couple of tins of tea, and another blanket of his grandmother’s, that time a grey one with a basket-weave pattern. There was also a note from Aunt Miriam about her wanting to send him a few items to help make his flat ‘more of a home’.

It would be late in London, so he sent her a text to let her know that everything had arrived safely and to say ‘thank you’, and was surprised when she called back a couple of minutes later as he was carrying the grey blanket to his bed. “You’re still up?”

“We just returned home. How are you doing, Abram?” Miriam sounded a little tired but the affection was clear in her voice; Neil remembered his aunt’s warm hands and bright amber eyes, the way she made him feel comfortable from the start with her gentle smiles and the way she showed concern without being overbearing.

“I’m well, thank you. The new job is challenging but I enjoy helping out the children.”

“I thought that would be a good fit for you.”

“Thank you for the blankets and everything. It’s not quite as cold here in Columbia as London,” at least, not outside, “but they’ll definitely help to brighten up the place and make it more comfortable.”

“That’s good, I was hoping to help you become more settled,” Miriam told him. “You deserve a home at last, there’s no reason to keep moving. It’s not right for a young man like you to be so restless, it’s time for you to set down some roots. We’re worried about you and want you to be happy.”

Neil noticed how Mary had gone ‘still’ during the conversation, how she hung in the air like a projection of some kind, so close to him to raise goosebumps on his skin and his breath to condense when he breathed out. “Again, thank you. I don’t want to keep you up so maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”

“You’re always such a thoughtful child, I wish Ally took after you a bit more,” Miriam said with obvious affection and a bit of chagrin. “Do you need a roommate, perchance?”

“Hmm, perhaps I _should_ be moving on….”

His aunt laughed and insisted that she was just teasing, and wished him a good night after promising to call in a day or two. As soon as she hung up, he held the phone against his chest and gazed at his mother. “They’ll wonder if I move on so soon,” he warned; he wasn’t 100% certain that Mary’s brothers could sense ghosts, too, that it was indeed a Hatford trait… but he felt his suspicions firm up when she slowly drifted away instead of insist that he pack the duffel bag so they could leave.

/ _Brew us some tea, Abram_ ,/ she said instead, / _and I’ll tell you a story about your gram_./

He smiled as he hurried to obey, content that he’d won a reprieve for the time being.

*******

Abby confirmed what Andrew had suspected, that he had a couple of bruised ribs, which was such a _banner_ way to end the work week, wasn’t it? Then she wrote him a script for some lovely pain pills and muscle relaxers, which made him hate the puzzle that was Neil Josten a little less (a _little_ ), cleaned up his scraped palms (he shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial things after everything he’d endured in the past, which meant he was growing soft and so was unacceptable), and walked him to his car. “I don’t see any rough spots where you tripped,” she said as she searched the parking lot. “You must be working too hard, I’m going to tell David to give you the day off on Monday.”

Part of Andrew rebelled at the idea, of him not being there for the kids, but each time he drew in a breath there was a stab of pain along the left side of his chest, which he knew would be there for at least a couple of weeks at best. As much as he hated the feeling of letting the kids down, it made sense to rest up over the weekend and Monday rather than having things drag out too long. “Those meds better be good,” he gritted out past the pain.

There was a flash of offense in Abby’s brown eyes before she shook her head. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, do I?” She helped him to the GS and even into the driver’s seat before she spoke again. “You need to heal before you can work again, all right? I know you worry about the children, but listen to me and take it easy for a few days. David will make sure that everything is covered here.” She looked as if she wanted to lean in and give him a kiss on the forehead or a hug before she reconsidered. “Call me if you need anything. _Anything_.”

He managed a curt salute, and only because he knew she was sincere about that ‘anything’ before he closed the door and started the car; he wanted to go to the nearest pharmacy, get the prescriptions filled, then go home and collapse into his bed for the entire weekend as soon as possible.

Well, he did need to fire off an email to Renee at some point, but first, pain meds.

At least it didn’t take long to get the damn prescriptions filled, during which he hobbled around the store and grabbed a few things to tide him over for the weekend (heating pad, lots of ice cream and chocolate, hot patches for his ribs, so on and so forth) while the pharmacy worked its magic. He had Uber Eats prepare an order for him on the way home, so a few minutes after he reached his apartment, the food was delivered (enough take-out to last him the next three days), and after eating some cheese and jalapeño pizza, he grabbed a pint of ice cream while he typed out an email to Renee asking her what the fuck was going on at work – with the new guy, especially.

Then he took some meds and went to bed.

For once Abby had done some good, because despite the pain and discomfort, he slept through the night and into the morning, spared any disquieting dreams for once, and got up to relieve his bladder then stand beneath the hot water long enough for some of the stiffness to fade away before he had enough coffee, muscle relaxers and breakfast burritos that he felt semi-human to look at his phone to see what he’d missed during the last ten hours or so spent unconscious.

Nicky had called him, which wasn’t much of a surprise, as had Kevin and Roland… and Renee. Only the last caused a flicker of annoyance, since he’d hoped to talk to her about what the hell her cryptic emails meant and if she had any idea what was going on with a certain Neil Josten, how he could have made Andrew’s ribs become bruised without even _touching_ him.

Even worse? She merely left a voicemail about how she was sorry to miss him and would arrange something for him until she could speak to him again, and hoped that he was well. He had a few dark thoughts about her untimely sabbatical as he deleted the message while he slurped his sugary caffeine concoction while he debated on if he wanted to stretch out on his bed or the couch.

The couch won out (closer to the coffee maker and one bathroom), where he spent several hours drifting in and out of a comfortable haze from the pain pills and muscle relaxers while the television played on in the background until a loud knocking noise interrupted his semi-doze.

He pulled the microfleece blanket which Nicky had given him for Christmas last year up to his nose and was determined to ignore the knocking at first, lulled into a comfortable drug haze and unwilling to move… except the sound kept going on and on and _on_. His annoyance growing as the pounding continued, he wondered if he could explain him repeatedly stabbing whoever was on the other side of the door as an effect of the drugs while he forced himself onto his feet and stumbled forward to stop the awful noise.

It turned out to be Allison Reynolds banging on his door. Oh, wonderful, the justifiable homicide case just became _that much_ stronger.

As if reading his thoughts, Allison held up her hands in a defensive position while giving him a sour look. “Put away the knives and let me in, Renee sent me here,” she declared. “She’s the only reason I’m dealing with your homicidal ass on a weekend.”

His right hand hovering over his left armband while he wavered on his feet, Andrew considered those words for a couple of seconds before he clicked his tongue. “She better have a good reason for this or else I’ll slit your throat after all.”

“Such a fucking asshole,” Allison muttered as she entered the apartment, dressed as if she expected there to be cameras for some type of photo shoot inside; she wore six inch high heels with red linings on the soles, a black suede mini skirt and an ivory silk blouse with a oxblood suede cropped jacket over it with her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, her makeup ‘subtle’ enough to mean it probably had taken half an hour to perfect.

Andrew went into the kitchen and made himself another mug of coffee, which he didn’t offer to his ‘guest’; she narrowed her blue eyes and pressed her glossed lips into a thin line but sat down at the table with her small purse set in front of her. “Again, Renee sent me here or else I’d be having a nice champagne brunch with Matt and Dan, which is preferable than dealing with _you_.”

“I can always end your suffering,” Andrew offered as he slumped over his coffee mug after he sat down, the ache in his ribs a dull throb.

“So generous,” Allison sneered as she fished through her purse for something. “Anyway, _this_ is what Renee wanted you to have,” she said as she set a cloth-wrapped item down on the table. “And no, all I know is that she called me last night and told me to give it to you, that you had to have it. She was rather insistent about that and that you accept it, and was upset that she couldn’t talk to you. So you take it, you monster, just so I can tell her that you did and it’s one less thing for her to worry about, and answer your damn phone next time.”

She didn’t wait for any explanation from Andrew (not that he’d give her one), or questions from him, either (he didn’t have any, not when it was clear that she had no clue what the hell was going on, not when Renee was being just as cryptic with her girlfriend as she was with him). Andrew sat there and sipped his coffee while Allison left with her signature flounce, and didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut a few seconds later (except to remind himself to go lock it in a minute or two).

He had about half of his drink before he pulled the wrapped bundle to him to examine its contents (to see what Renee had sent him), undoing the red string around it and flipping open the unbleached linen to expose what turned out to be an ornately carved cross (no figure on it at least) of some unknown wood with a note wrapped around it.

How disappointing.

Renee’s writing was as neat and tiny as always: _Andrew, if you’ve received this, it means that something has happened which requires you to wear it. I know that you don’t possess proper faith, but sometimes a leap is required, or at least belief in the person asking you to trust them. That is the time now, and I am asking – put on the cross and trust me, will you? I believe that you will be safer for it, and I want you to be safe. There are things in the world which can’t be easily seen and defended against with simple steel, and I wish we’d had enough time to talk about what lies in the shadows and beyond before I left. Until we can, all I can ask is that you have faith in me, at least, and what I ask of you. I promise, I will explain when I return – Renee._

He stared at the words for several minutes, until the remaining coffee went cold and the letters wavered before his eyes, until he clicked his tongue and decided to put the awful thing around his neck after all. He swore that it felt warm as it settled against his breastbone, which he put down to his imagination and the meds, before he forced himself to stand up (moving was going to be unpleasant for the next few weeks) so he could lock the front door then resettle on the couch.

He used his phone to send a new email to Renee, one where he asked her once again what the hell was going on and why she thought him wearing a bit of religious flash was a good idea. Also? He didn’t appreciate the cryptic comments and expected a straight answer _very_ soon – there was voice mail for a reason, dammit.

Did she know about Neil Josten? She did hang out a lot with Moreau, so did Frenchie say something about the new guy to her?

Why did Andrew feel annoyed about the thought of Josten and Moreau being all buddy-buddy? About there perhaps being something more between the two young men?

He took more meds and curled up with the heating pad and slept as much as possible, the usual nightmares held at bay for once, and ignored his phone since Renee didn’t seem to be answering his questions.

On Tuesday, he slapped the medicated wraps around his bruised ribs and took some over the counter pain pills before he shuffled off to work, and dealt with a frantic Nicky as well as an assessing Aaron in the break room. “Bruised ribs, eh? It’s gonna suck to be you for a while,” his oh-so understanding brother said in-between sips of coffee.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you say something? I could have brought over food! Eric made this amazing stew on Saturday, we had plenty of leftovers!” Nicky exclaimed. “You could have told us!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing a necklace? I thought you didn’t go for stuff like that.”

Andrew flipped him off before he accepted the cream-filled donut which Robin offered. “I have work to do, unlike some people. Leave me the hell alone.” He gave Nicky a warning stare before he turned around to head to his office, and ignored the shouted offers of help his cousin called out as he left.

Once settled at his desk (with his door locked), he made sure to better hide the metal chain of the cross necklace beneath his shirt before he went through the emails from Monday.

Bee, Robin and Dan had helped to cover for his cases while he’d been off, so he didn’t feel as if he’d lost a lot of ground, especially with Peter Minkin. Still, there was something he wanted to do, so he forced himself onto his feet (seriously, bruised ribs did suck) and went off to the one hallway leading to the south courtyard which was closed off that time of year because of the cooler weather. When he heard the sound of hushed voices in the usually deserted corridor, he slowed his steps and ducked into a doorway to wait until one of Nicky’s cases, Ariel Toya, walked past while shoving something down the front of her clingy, bright blue top, then stepped out when Seth Gordon came by a few seconds later.

“Fuck!” Seth took a hasty step back with his clenched hands raised as if to fend off Andrew, probably a hold-over from the days when he’d been a strung-out kid doing whatever it took to survive long enough for his next hit. “What the hell are you doing here, Minyard?”

“I thought that was my question.” Andrew leaned against the door frame, his arms folded lightly over his chest in a familiar gesture which normally put his hands near his knives – if Wymack allowed him to show up to work armed. “So what is it? Pot? It better not be anything stronger than that.” The man was on thin enough ice as it was, if he was selling dope to kids; Wymack might have helped Seth to get clean and to earn an IT degree, but he wouldn’t forgive him for selling drugs at the Foxhole.

As it was, the only thing keeping Andrew still, bruised ribs or not, lack of knives or not, was the fact that the old man had a good grasp of what went down in the Foxhole, and so probably had an idea of what Seth was doing.

“What? _Hell no_ ,” Seth snapped as he shook his head. “There’s no way I’d do that! Not to _these_ kids.” When Andrew scoffed, Seth’s dark brown eyes blazed with an anger that appeared more righteous than guilty. “It’s _just_ cigarettes, okay? I don’t even charge the kids anything, I just let them know that they can come to me and I’ll sneak ‘em a few, help ‘em out with their cravings and keep ‘em from doing something stupid like try to steal any or go after something worse.” His anger faded as he let out a steady breath and rubbed at his inner left forearm, which bore similar scars to Matt’s. “Turn me in to Wymack if you don’t believe me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Andrew drawled. “And why should any of us believe you?” So far the story and Seth’s reaction seemed believable, which was the only reason why Wymack wasn’t becoming involved.

“Because I’m not going to fuck this up, okay?” Seth took to glaring again as he jabbed a finger in Andrew’s direction, the flush back on his light brown cheeks yet he knew better than to touch him. “I know what you think about me, you and your family, but I do more than just play on a computer all day and I’m taking classes at night so I can help out these kids, too. Little more than a year and I can be an addiction counselor.”

How impressive. “That’s _if_ you don’t get in trouble for handing out tobacco to minors,” Andrew reminded him.

“Fucking asshole,” Seth muttered as his hands clenched into fists once more. “What do you want? If you were going to get me in trouble, you’d be halfway to Wymack’s office already.”

Seth Gordon wasn’t a complete moron. “Neil Josten’s personnel files by the end of the day,” Andrew told him with a curt nod. “And if I find out you’re giving cigarettes to kids who aren’t already addicted or ‘charging’ them? It’s not Wymack you need to be worried about.” It was one thing to help wean the kids who already were addicted slowly off their habit, but another thing entirely to prey on any of them.

“I’m not going to harm these kids, you asshole,” Seth called out as Andrew walked away.

No, he wouldn’t, Andrew would make certain of it; he wouldn’t tell _Wymack_ about what Seth was doing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass it on to Renee in an upcoming email as ‘interesting’ work gossip. At the least, she’d let Allison know, who might want to give her ex-boyfriend an earful for his dubious life choices.

Andrew had time for another cup of coffee before his appointment with Peter and _Josten_ ; he told himself that he wasn’t eager to see the young man, to gage his reaction after what had happened in the parking lot on Friday.

To find out why Renee had insisted that Andrew wear some stupid cross when he didn’t believe in such things.

Despite leaving for the one play room a little early, Andrew wasn’t the first to arrive, what a surprise. No, Josten was already there, dressed in his usual wardrobe of worn jeans and overlarge sweater, with the thick strands of his dark brown hair mostly hiding the bandaged cut on his forehead.

The younger man gave him a cautious stare as he once more stood off to the side by one of the bookshelves, mindful to remain out of reach, and Andrew thought he caught a flash of guilt over the way that he moved slowly to his usual chair at the table in the middle of the room, a flash that was quickly smothered.

Now _what_ did Josten have to be guilty about, hmm? Andrew gazed at his colleague while he tapped his fingers against the table, possessed by a sudden urge for a cigarette, and shivered as there was a blast of cold for a couple of seconds. He thought that Josten frowned a moment later for some reason, but was distracted by Abby arriving with Peter.

“Mr. Minyard!” Peter broke into a wide smile and waved to him while he greeted him in Russian, then followed it by managing a mostly understandable ‘I hope you’re all right,’ in English which made Abby beam and even drew a slight smile from Josten.

“He worked on that yesterday,” Josten murmured before he shifted forward a little so he could begin translating.

They spent a few minutes with Peter asking Andrew about his weekend and if he really was okay, which Andrew assured him that he was _fine_ (oh, was there a slight twitch from Josten at that?); it was worth the deviation from Peter’s routine to build a better sense of trust with the boy, to allow him a sense of curiosity and put any fears he had to rest. Andrew wouldn’t be in the child’s life forever, not when the goal was to help him get better and find him a safe home with people who’d care for him… but Andrew never cut himself off from any of his ‘kids’ and checked up on them as much as he could.

Once Peter had settled down, Andrew asked him some more questions about his mother and father, about the fights they had and how the woman would do her best to protect Peter; he was slowly building the case against Peter’s abusive father, to show that the woman wouldn’t have abandoned her son, as the asshole claimed. Josten assisted in keeping Peter calm, and by the end of the hour there was a little more information to hand over to the police, a few more blocks added to the wall that would lock away Peter’s father a long, long time come.

Josten made to leave as soon as Abby took Peter away, but Andrew threw out his right arm to stop the man, the motion alone enough to divert his flight. “What about Peter’s English assessment?”

Andrew was given a sour look for the question. “I sent it to you via email last week, and as you can see, he’s started English classes this week,” Josten informed him as he settled back against the bookshelf, the sleeves of his dark grey sweater tugged over his hands and gaze wary beneath the strands of his bangs.

“With you? Are you handling his English lessons?”

“No, that’ll be someone who’s certified to teach, I only handle translations and can help him with phrases here and there.” Josten cast a longing glance to the door before he focused on Andrew once more. “So unless it’s about what happens in our sessions or an evaluation, we’ve nothing to talk about.”

Oh, someone was a hopeful fool, weren’t they? “There’s something off about you. You don’t add up,” Andrew informed the liar as he slowly, carefully, stood to his feet.

Josten was quiet for a couple of seconds while Andrew swore he felt a quick blast of chill again, off to the far left. “I’m not a math equation.”

“No, but I’m going to solve you none the less,” Andrew promised as he tapped his right fingers against the top of the table in quick succession. “I won’t allow anything to endanger these kids.”

“Neither will I.” Josten’s sharp jaw (so much of the man was sharp, was defined angles and slopes and jutting bones poking through thick layers of cloth, were invitations for hands to stroke along and cup and- and Andrew _hated_ himself for that treasonous thought) clenched in obvious anger while his eyes flashed with the emotion before he managed to get a hold on himself. “I’d _never_ bring harm down on a child.”

Hmm, he sounded _so sincere_ … but how often had Andrew heard adults say that they had a child’s best interest at heart, had watch them smile and promise to look after him, only to turn around and lay hands on him (and worse) once they were alone?

“I’m watching you,” Andrew said as he rocked back on his heels. “And I’ll figure you out, too, whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“Fuck you.” Josten glared for a couple of seconds before he stalked out of the room. As he left, several items from the bookshelf tumbled to the floor, including a few heavy ones such as books and wooden toys that fell perilously close to Andrew.

He frowned as he went over to see if the shelf had fallen free from its fastenings somehow – and almost ended on his face as he tripped at a ripple in the carpet, saved only by catching on to the back of the chair. Muttered curses slipped past his clenched teeth for about half a minute as pain washed through him from his jostled ribs, and when he finally could stand upright again, he left the room (and the mess it contained) for the next occupants to deal with so he could have another cup of coffee and a pain pill.

Seth better come through with Josten’s files sooner rather than later, because Andrew was going to be in a full body cast if he had to deal with the enigma much longer.

Renee should have sent him a damn four-leaf clover.

*******

“ _Is something wrong_?”

Neil started at the question, Jean’s voice pitched low so as not to interrupt the students while they worked on their stick houses. Since Karima was occupied with the art project, he gave a slight shrug and stepped farther back so he could talk to the Frenchman. “ _Just… had an unpleasant talk with someone earlier_ ,” he admitted while Mary drifted about a few feet away, a slight frown on her face as she watched them but mostly calm; she wasn’t happy with Jean Moreau, but so far the young man hadn’t tried to touch Neil again, was acting polite and grateful but nothing more than that.

It was as Neil had said, he was thankful for them getting rid of the ghost, Riko, and he may see Neil as a fellow ‘spirit’ in that they had experienced unusual things, but he wasn’t interested in anything else. So Mary kept watch and knocked over things if Jean got too close, which Neil was sure would help to keep things strictly platonic between him and Jean.

After all, Jean had just gotten rid of one ghost which had tormented him for years, the last thing he’d do was willingly sign on for another one, right? _No one_ would do that.

It wasn’t like _Neil_ was tormented… Mary looked after him, she protected him and kept him from harm, but he could admit that she wouldn’t do the same to anyone who got close to him.

Which was fine because he didn’t need anyone but her; it was as she always told him – letting anyone who wasn’t family in was a mistake, would only hurt him in the end. People lied to you, used false words and smiles and let you down, so it wasn’t worth a little bit of pleasure or comfort when it would just end in pain in betrayal. Look at what had happened to Mary, what he saw all the time at his latest job, what had happened to Jean.

No, relationships were anathema, were to be avoided at all costs. It wasn’t like Neil had felt anything other than a bit of idle curiosity anyway. He was fine with the way things were, with it just being him and Mary.

“Ah.” Jean picked up a stack of small paper cups and a bottle of glue, the former which he began to sort onto a tray and then fill with the latter. “Ah,” he exclaimed again, as if he’d come to some sort of understanding. “ _You work with Minyard, yes? I mean Andrew, not the one in Medical – Aaron_.”

“Yes,” Neil agreed as he remembered that Andrew had a twin in the Medical department, a young man who appeared to work out less often and was more willing to show emotion (scowls and blatant disapproval), which had made Neil’s first session with Andrew a bit of a surprise even though he’d easily picked up the physical difference between the brothers. “ _I understand that he has a difficult reputation, but… he was especially trying today_.” Over by the shelf of supplies, Mary nodded in agreement, her features drawn in stark disapproval.

“ _When isn’t he being a pain in the ass_?” Jean’s grey eyes flickered to the busy children as a hint of a blush spread across his pale cheeks, but none of them could speak French. “ _If he gets to be too much, go to Wymack_.”

Not really an option, not when Neil was in a roundabout way responsible for Andrew’s injuries, not when Neil didn’t feel comfortable around the older man even if Wymack had hired him. “ _It’ll be all right, I’m used to dealing with difficult people_ ,” was all he said.

Which was the truth, but there had been something to Andrew that day, something that had blocked Mary from getting too close to the man. That coupled with Andrew’s declaration that he would ‘figure’ out Neil… it made him nervous, especially since Neil wanted to stay in Columbia, to keep on working at Palmetto Services.

It wasn’t that he wanted his mother to attack the young man again, not like she’d done on Friday when Minyard had gotten too close, had ignored Neil’s declaration that he was fine and tried to touch him, but Neil didn’t like it when people paid too much attention to him, when they pried into his (carefully constructed) past.

He supposed if Andrew turned out to be too much of a problem… well, there were more mundane means of dealing with threats than relying on his mother.

He might not even have to call his uncles.

Jean glanced at the general vicinity of where Mary was floating and gave a slight shrug. “ _I’m sure you are. Now grab the blue rubber bin marked ‘tiles’, will you?_ ”

Neil did as he was told and followed Jean around as he handed out the cups of glue, followed by packets of small colored tiles which the children could use for shingles or decorations for their houses; he translated the instructions to Karima, whose dark eyes lit up in anticipation of adding more detail to her dream home.

It had been a while since Neil had been around someone who had some understanding of his life (such as his cousins), so it was… it was _nice_ , talking to Jean. He didn’t think much would come from things, that they’d be the best of friends or he’d tell the man about his past (about being _Nathaniel_ ), but it was still nice, not being a complete stranger with everyone for once.

Besides, Neil needed more information on who’d created those wards which had kept Riko’s ghost at bay for a short while (even if they’d failed miserably in the end). Not only was he concerned about there being someone else with the ‘sight’ around Palmetto Services, but them being half-trained and so a danger on multiple fronts.

He wondered if Jean’s ‘someone’ was the same person responsible for Andrew’s sudden protection, since it was rare to come across both someone who could see ghosts and have any knowledge in creating wards strong enough to hold against them.

The rest of the class went by quickly, with Karima chatting about her house to him for a few minutes before she went off with the rest of the other children. Jean offered for the two of them to have lunch together the next day, which Neil hesitated over accepting… until he saw Jeremy Knox waiting with an anxious expression on his face out in the hallway, his attention focused on Jean while the art therapist finished putting away a few items.

“ _Sure_ ,” Neil said while he gave a quick glance between his mother and Knox. “ _Here, right? I bring something in each day_.”

“ _That’s fine, it gives me more time to prepare for the afternoon lessons_ ,” Jean agreed, a slight smile on his face that melted away when he noticed the physical therapist hovering in the doorway. “Jeremy? What are you doing, lurking out there like a criminal?”

“Uhm, I thought maybe we could go to dinner? There’s this new Chinese place that’s supposed to be really good? My treat!”

Jean went still, save for his eyes darting over to where Neil had seen Riko’s ghost linger ‘on guard’ the previous week before he sighed and gave a slight nod. “Only because I haven’t had time to purchase groceries yet this week.” He gave Neil a firmer nod before he gathered his messenger bag. “Tomorrow. Bonsoir.”

“Bonsoir,” Neil wished him in return as he left the room, careful to skirt around a beaming Knox (Mary wasn’t as nice, which meant that Knox yelped and complained about a chill a moment later).

“See,” Neil told his mother once they were out in the car. “I think someone’s determined to be Jean’s boyfriend, if he’s so inclined that way.” He might not be the most skilled in picking up on the tell-tale signs of when someone was interested in another person (especially when that person was him) because of his lack of dating (or general interacting with people), but Knox had been _painfully_ obvious back there.

/ _Hmph. He still bears watching, though not as much as Minyard_./ The passenger window grew frosted from Mary’s displeasure. / _I sensed rowan and iron on him, which he never bore before today_./

Neil winced upon hearing that. “He doesn’t seem to see you, though.” He suspected that Andrew would have said something if he had, or shown up with salt and iron, perhaps even iron shavings considering his comment about protecting the children.

/ _No_./ Mary vibrated with frustration as the air inside the car grew cold enough to make Neil shiver. / _Find out from Moreau who gave him the wards. The two may be related_./

“I intend to,” Neil assured her, relieved that she wouldn’t give any more grief about him talking to the Frenchman.

He was surprised that she didn’t tell him to pack so they could leave… but there was Aunt Miriam’s calls over the weekends, the comments about him having a stable job and home at last… and about Stuart’s growing concern and possible visit.

Stuart, Mary’s brother, the one who’d been closest to her, who’d watched over her when she’d been a child. Who’d fetched Neil (Nathaniel) from California when he’d called after that awful night, Mary’s faint voice whispering in his head, who’d taken in a broken boy and given him a safe place at last, who’d given him a new name and some hope for a future.

Stuart, whom Mary had been careful to avoid after she’d come back as a ghost. Neil hadn’t realized it when he’d been in London, had put it down to Mary being weak at first (newly dead and all, so far away from her earthly remains), then unwilling to face too many remnants from her previous life.

Stuart, whom Neil suspected could see ghosts, too (his respect for the iron rings, his concern for Neil, his insistence that Neil ‘move on’), thanks to his Hatford blood.

Stuart, who might be able to exorcise them, too?

Would he do that to his own sister? The only part of her that still remained?

Neil glanced at his mother’s vibrating, slightly fractured form and felt a sharp, vicious ache in his chest at the thought of losing her, of Mary being truly gone; she’d given up _everything_ for him – had made sure that he at least ate when food was scarce, that he slept while she kept first watch, that his wounds were stitched up before hers. Yes, she was harsh and demanding, but how could she be anything else? She couldn’t have coddled him when he needed to constantly be on guard against his father and everyone sent after them, against monsters human and supernatural. A moment of weakness meant pain or worse for them both.

A moment of weakness had led to his mother bleeding out in the passenger seat of a stolen car, but her innate strength hadn’t allowed her to be gone from Neil’s side for long. He wasn’t ever going to lose her again.

*******

Andrew waited until he was home to open the file that Seth had sent him (a few minutes before he was finished for the day, the asshole); he picked up some tacos on the way home, a mix of ground chicken and bean and cheese ones from the Mexican place only a couple of blocks away from the apartment, and poured himself a large glass of whiskey before he sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop, the food and his drink.

He broke apart the soft tortillas and tossed the food into his mouth as he read through Josten’s personnel files, pausing for sips of alcohol and to wipe his fingers clean so he could scroll down the screen or skip to the next document; Josten had gone to Penn State and earned decent grades, and worked for a British-owned investment firm in Philly before Wymack had hired him. A bit odd, his lack of experience with kids, but it appeared that Josten had come highly recommended by an old friend of Wymack’s.

Andrew supposed that was good enough, considering Wymack’s sense of loyalty – if someone the old man knew could vouch for you? That was all that mattered to him, and apparently, he trusted this Vern Shatner fellow.

However, _Andrew_ didn’t, especially when a google search revealed that Wymack’s old buddy had spent time in prison for manslaughter – someone got a little too rough with the bastard beating up his sister. Coincidence? Everyone knew the oh so tragic tale of Wymack’s parents, about why he was so determined to give his beloved rejects a second chance, to provide a safe haven for kids. Did he consider Shatner a ‘what if’ version of himself?

He clearly trusted him enough to hire one mysterious Neil Josten on the man’s say-so.

Andrew tapped the rim of the glass against his teeth a couple of times before he shuddered at the sensation and set it aside, bothered by how… how _bland_ everything appeared. Everything neat and orderly, no red flags or anything too negative, just a young man who’d gone to university and had good recommendations from his professors and previous employers.

He didn’t trust it, not something so pat and neat and perfect.

Yet when he called the investment firm later that night (after hours), there was a legitimate sounding answering machine which picked up the call (he didn’t leave a message). A reverse phone book search revealed that the numbers for the recommendations were real, too. Andrew frowned at his computer screen, but there wasn’t anything he could take into Wymack’s office as proof that Josten wasn’t who he appeared to be, at least not yet.

Somehow, he didn’t think explaining to his boss that weird shit happened around the translator would work well.

That left him back at square one, without any blackmail material on Seth and Josten suspicious of him. He’d worked with less, but right then he had some truly uncharitable thoughts for a certain Christian girl off playing in Africa at the moment.

It didn’t help that Renee still hadn’t answered his emails or returned his calls.

He sent Roland a text that he was out of commission for a couple of weeks and told Nicky that he didn’t need any food dropped off that night (in other words, leave him the hell alone), then read a little before he went to bed. There was a vague nightmare or two while he slept, but nothing bad enough that he didn’t just roll over (with care) and go back to sleep (the same old demons rattling around his head).

Knox was in the break room the next morning carrying on about his dinner with Moreau to anyone who’d listen, something which Andrew didn’t care about except that it meant the Frenchman was either a two-timer or wasn’t interested in Josten _that_ way. He put the odd fluttering in his chest down to the donut he’d just bit into, a nice rush of carbs and sugar to help see him through the too-long day.

There was a message from Abby that Peter had come down with a cold, which meant that the boy wasn’t coming in that day - that there wasn’t a reason for Andrew to see Josten. He felt a pulse of annoyance even though it meant that he could catch up on some paperwork, to review the new case that Wymack had just assigned him (Toni Caldwell, signs of physical abuse and neglect, indications of her mother grooming her to go along with what would have been underage prostitution if Wymack’s buddy Rhemann’s Vice squad hadn’t busted the bitch during an online sting). He’d have to work closely with Bee to help the girl, would have to make sure that certain demons didn’t rear their heads… but it would be worth it in the end.

It wasn’t possible to change the past, to erase it (especially when cursed with a near-perfect memory), but some days the scars seemed less important, the whiskey a little less necessary and the self-loathing a bit less castigating when he knew he’d stopped the cycle that much sooner (when he’d kept the monsters at bay) for someone else.

Then it was off to for his session with Isabel, who was nervous about the prospect of her own approaching court case in a few weeks, so he spent the hour letting her draw and prattle on in an effort to vent out her concerns. She had an older cousin who was going through counseling and a few recommended courses so he and his partner could foster her once the trial was over, something Andrew reminded her about since he knew she looked forward to having a home once again. Normally he didn’t encourage such hopes in his cases, but Laila had already arranged things with Judge Lawrence to ensure that Isabel didn’t have to go back into the system, and Bee had sat with the men so they had her recommendation.

A bit wrung out and not even halfway done with the day, Andrew accepted the pieces of artwork that Isabel gave him before she left and headed to Bee’s office to both share the gifts and have a mini-session (and some hot chocolate) between their next cases. He still moved slowly because of his ribs (so much for working out for the next week or so) – at least until he reached the hallway which housed Bee and Abby’s offices and heard screaming.

At first he thought that a furious cat had gotten into the building somehow, and then he realized that a human was behind the ruckus, that there were distorted words (‘go away’?) and the sound of something breaking, along with someone crying out in pain.

That someone sounded like _Bee_.

Uncaring about his ribs, Andrew broke into a run, concern and rage over Bee, over the woman who’d helped put him back together after _Drake_ , who’d followed him to South Carolina after picking up on the fact that his _dear_ birth mother was a mess and had stepped in to give both him and Aaron (and even Nicky) a real home at last fueling his speed. No one was allowed to harm her, _no one_.

The door to her office was open, the room scented with chocolate and cinnamon (and a hint of cigarette smoke) with the comfy chairs and too-orderly shelves empty, so that meant she was in Abby’s; he raced down the last few yards and slammed into the partially closed door to tumble into a room frigidly cold, into a scene where Bee lay huddled on the floor with a bleeding right hand and bruised forehead, a chair on its side near her and glass scattered in pieces all around, while Abby struggled to take some sort of metal instrument away from what appeared to be a prepubescent girl with shoulder-length hair dark brown hair.

Andrew wasn’t one for touching people, especially children, but he grabbed what looked to be Abby’s coat from the floor near the door and threw it on the caterwauling girl, half over her head, then he wrapped his arms around her upper body and lifted her partially off the floor. “Behave,” he gritted out when she began to kick and struggle. “No one’s going to hurt you so stop it.”

The cold intensified for a couple of seconds, and then it vanished; one moment he drew in air so freezing his lungs hurt, the next it stung for the exact opposite reason – it was warm enough to be startling in contrast. “Dammit, Abby, do something!”

Abby gaped at him (and the kid) before she snatched at the contraption (he thought it was a neurology hammer) from the kid then ran into the exam room for what turned out to be a weighted blanket; while she was gone, Bee groaned and slowly rose to her feet.

“Leave me alone! Jace! Jace! Come back!” the girl shouted, her voice somewhat muffled by the coat.

Andrew grunted as she landed a kick to his upper thigh and his ribs protested like a bitch, and was more than happy to hand her over to Abby once she was wrapped in the weighted blanket. “What the hell is going on?” he asked Bee as she grimaced at her cut hand.

“Our latest case, Amelia Green,” she told him while Abby tried to calm the girl. “You may have heard something about it.” She glanced at the other room and pitched her voice lower while Andrew held out his hand so he could check the wound himself. “Mother ran off with another guy, got tired of the father’s abuse but left the kids behind, he decided to make her sorry by taking it out on them. The brother died protecting Amelia so she was only wounded, and now she seems to think that he’s watching over her.” She winced, and Andrew didn’t think it was just from him removing a small shard of glass from her palm. “Tends to have destructive outbursts, as you can see.”

“No shit.”

“Yes, but you put a stop to it, so thank you.” She gave a slight nod of her head while in the other room, the girl could still be heard yelling at Abby about her brother and being left alone.

“Come on, let’s have Aaron fix you, as much as possible,” Andrew told her, certain that Wymack and the others would be there at any moment since he couldn’t have been the only one to hear the commotion.

Bee hesitated, clearly unwilling to leave her best friend alone with such a destructive child, but sure enough, Wymack and Dan came barreling into the room barely three seconds later; as soon as their boss assessed the situation, he ordered Andrew to accompany Bee to get her injuries checked out while he helped Abby with Amelia.

Aaron and Katelyn were in the middle of doing the random pee tests on the kids going through the addiction programs, which meant that Matt, Robin and Nat freaked out to see Bee all banged up until Katelyn restored order and took over the tests so a flustered Aaron could make sure that Bee didn’t have a concussion then stitch up the cut on her hand.

“You should take the rest of the day off,” he told their foster mother.

“I’ll be fine, honest. I’d rather stay here and get a little work done than sit at home and feel all out of place,” she told him as she gave him an affectionate pat on the right cheek. “This way Andrew can drive me home.”

Aaron frowned at that then huffed. “Only if Katelyn and I can pick you up in the morning. I’d try to make you take the day off, but I know better.”

“Always so smart,” she told him with clear affection.

“This way we can keep an eye on you,” Andrew pointed out. “And sic Nicky on you if you push yourself too hard.”

“Smart and vicious,” Bee amended with a slight laugh. “Between you three, David and Abby, I won’t be able to work too hard so don’t worry.”

He would always worry about her, but there was no point in saying it. Before he could get up to leave, Aaron handed him a couple of pain pills. “Take these.” His brother’s eyes narrowed. “I’d say for you to go home, too, but you’re both stubborn fools.”

He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious about his ribs aching, but if there was anyone who knew him almost as well as Bee, it was Aaron, he supposed. So he accepted the small paper cup of water, too, and swallowed what looked to be something a bit stronger than over the counter pain meds, but nothing that would leave him unable to focus during work.

It wasn’t the cup of hot chocolate and quiet talk that he’d thought to have, but Bee accompanied him back to his office for a little while once Aaron finished fussing over them; Robin stopped by with some coffee for them, along with a packet of cookies for them to share.

“Let me know if you need help with any of your cases,” she told Andrew before she left. “I only have one of my own this afternoon.”

He shooed her out of his office then went to sit behind his desk while Bee smiled from where she was slumped in the room’s only spare chair. “She’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t manage to scare her away.”

“Amusing,” Andrew drawled; most of the staff had been surprised when Wymack had assigned the young woman to him to be mentored, but beneath her shy exterior was a strong core, was the determination and grit which had allowed her to survive her own abduction and years in captivity yet still retain enough empathy to enable her to connect with children in need. “Maybe your brains were scrambled too much after all and Wymack has to let you go.”

“Ha, something like that would probably just mean I’m better suited for the job,” Bee declared, which made Andrew raise his mug in recognition of the remark; one did have to be a little crazy to do what they did, considering the pay and everything. “I hope Abby’s all right.”

“You know the old man will watch over her.” If the kid acted up again, Wymack would take the blows rather than let Abby be hurt. Though Andrew frowned as he wondered just how a small girl like Amelia had been able to cause so much damage, especially against two trained professionals like Bee and Abby.

It didn’t make any sense… but then again, a lot of things didn’t make sense anymore, did it? Like how something invisible had slammed into Andrew hard enough to knock him off his feet and bruise his ribs, how there kept being cold spots around the damn place, and now _Bee_ had been hurt.

Andrew was used to life throwing curveballs at him, to things beating him down – it was to be expected. He wouldn’t stand there and do nothing when his family was hurt, though.

“I know,” Bee agreed. “But what Amelia needs is someplace safe where she can heal and move on from the past. David won’t hurt her, but it’s difficult to gain trust when we’re all on guard, especially her.” She set her own mug aside so she could fetch a couple of vanilla cookies out of the packet. “It’s always upsetting when we get off to a bad start with one of the children.”

“She’ll eventually realize that she’s safe here or she won’t,” Andrew pointed out as he grabbed some cookies for himself. “We can’t save them all.” It galled him, that fact, but he was a realist – some people, some children, were too badly broken to be put back together.

Once upon a time he’d thought that about himself, but Bee hadn’t given up on him. She seemed to consider him one of her successes… though there were days when he believed that the jury was still out on that.

Some days when he felt just as much a monster as some people proclaimed him to be, a fraud encased in human form.

“I refuse to believe that of anyone,” Bee said as she gazed at him with conviction lighting up her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. “It merely means more effort on our part to make them whole again.”

Ah yes, there she was, ever the optimist; Andrew didn’t know what he’d done to deserve to be saddled with Bee _and_ Renee, two of the most hopeful do-gooders he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. He supposed plotting matricide, destruction of property, the occasional assault (or as he liked to think of it, ‘defining boundaries’) et all _might_ have something to do with it, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t all that bad.

“You exhaust me.”

“So you’ve said before.” Bee smiled at his usual rebuke – or at least attempted to before she winced. “Ow, it’ll be nice to go home and have a nice soak in the tub with a compress or two.”

“You could go home any time now,” he reminded her.

“Right, which is why you only took one day off from work.” Bee finished the cookies (he noticed that she favored chewing with one side of her jaw) before she stood up. “And speaking of it, I have another appointment soon, unless there was something important you wanted to talk about?”

He could go on about Josten another time, so he shook his head and watched her leave, then finished the cookies while he reviewed his notes on Ryan before lunch. When it came time to eat, Nicky dragged him out of the office with the offer of free food (cheese lasagna from the one Italian restaurant a few blocks over) so he could find out what happened to Bee.

“She’s all right, yes? I can’t believe she’s being stubborn enough… well, okay, yes I can,” Nicky muttered as he poked at his pasta diablo. “She always pushes too hard when she thinks someone’s in need.” His expression softened as he glanced at Andrew. “Not that we can complain about that, huh?”

Andrew gave him a cool look for bringing up the past and did his best not to focus on the table in the corner, where Josten and Moreau were huddled together while they ate their lunch (a sandwich and an apple for Josten, some sort of salad for Moreau); it sounded as if they were conversing in French from the bits that drifted across the room.

“Anyway, I told Erik and he’s going to make something as soon as he gets home from work, so at least she won’t have to worry about cooking anytime soon.” Erik was the gourmet of the ‘family’, and Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if he got out of his job handling change management for an international company early so he could start cooking since he was just as much of a fusser as Nicky.

He let Nicky prattle on about how they should ‘help’ Bee (other than cooking for her, she wouldn’t accept much assistance since she was set in her ways and didn’t like people messing with her things, something Nicky should know well enough by then) and focused on how Moreau, the grumpy French bastard that he was, actually _smiled_ at Josten, who appeared to say more than two words at a time while not translating. They appeared awfully cozy in their little corner, the two of them in their overlarge sweaters and shaggy dark hair, something similar about the way they sat so contained and still despite the difference in their heights.

Moreau had the brace on his left arm and fading bruises on his face, Josten the healing scratch on his forehead and sleeves pulled almost over his fingers despite the fact that he ate with his hands – hands which he kept on his side of the table, just like Moreau never strayed from his side.

Their body language was confusing as hell – there were the slight smiles and nods and intent gazes which indicated that it wasn’t just two men sharing a table, but there wasn’t anything to suggest that there was something physical between them, either. Andrew felt a pulse of annoyance as he had another bite of lasagna, which Nicky seemed to interpret him being upset over him making some sort of dulce du leche cake for Bee over the weekend. “I’ll make one for you, too!”

Andrew wasn’t going to complain about that so he shrugged. “Make sure you call first before you inflict yourself on her, you know how crabby she gets when everyone drops by and she thinks the place is a mess.”

Nicky clicked his tongue but nodded. “She thinks if the coasters are off-center on the coffee table that the house is in shambles, but we will.” He had a bite of his pasta and sighed. “Maybe she’ll go stay with Abby until she’s better. She needs- oh!”

Matt and Knox must have finished up with one of their sport therapy sessions since they had just entered the break room and headed for the one back corner as soon as caught sight of Moreau and Josten. Andrew broke off a piece of lasagna with his fork and chewed on it as he watched the two men approach the table, which made Moreau frown and Josten’s back grow stiff with wariness.

While Knox went over to Moreau’s side, Matt leaned against the wall near Josten and could be heard complaining about how Josten had to eat lunch with him next. That made Josten shake his head as he packed away the remains of his meager lunch, and it looked as if Matt was reaching out to touch him when the tall freak’s feet slipped out from under him; he tried to catch himself but his right hand slid down the smooth wall, and the next moment there was the loud cacophony of chairs banging around and people yelling as Matt crashed into the floor, long limbs tangled in the metal and plastic furniture.

Andrew thought he felt a cold breeze as he picked up his tray of lasagna and went over by the counter to stand out of the way of everyone rushing to help a groaning Matt, not too far away from a quiet Josten who was huddled in his overlarge clothes as if he could make himself disappear. Kevin appeared in time to help Knox carry Matt to Medical to be checked out (oh, what a shame if Aaron wouldn’t have time to eat lunch with Katelyn that day) for what looked to be some sort of sprain at the least.

Nicky gave a nervous laugh as he helped Moreau right the chairs. “What’s in the air around here lately, huh? There’s you falling down stairs, then Andrew tripping in the parking lot, and then today Bee gets all banged up because of some kid half her size and now Matt.” He laughed again while Moreau stilled. “Though he’s been awfully clumsy lately, to be fair.”

“One would think there’s a _jinx_ around the place,” Andrew drawled as he lifted another forkful of lasagna, his gaze fixed on a certain newcomer. “Bit of bad luck that blew into the place.”

Josten stared back at him with that spark of fire flickering in his too-dark eyes before he appeared to force himself to smother it and glance aside. He said something in French to Moreau before he left the break room, mindful to skirt around Andrew as if he was something toxic.

How rude.

Not as rude as the cabinet suddenly opening near Andrew’s head a couple of seconds later; only his quick reflexes kept it from smacking into him, but he ended up dropping his lunch as a result. While Nicky asked what happened, Moreau gave him a blank look even though Andrew was certain the man had caught a glimpse of what had happened.

Oh yes, a ‘jinx’ indeed, and somehow tied to one Neil Josten.

Andrew was going to get answers one way or another.

*******

Neil was anxious all through his session with Pat and Dan, on tenterhooks that the young woman would stand up at one point and accuse him of harming her boyfriend. Yet she smiled at him whenever Pat would show some sort of positive emotion, would grin or laugh or act like a ‘normal’, affectionate child.  When it was just the two of them in the play room after the session, she gave him a ‘thumb’s up sign, aware by then that he wasn’t a fan of physical contact. “Wymack should have hired you ages ago, it’s so much easier to get through to these kids when we’re not fighting across the language barrier or having a different translator in here every other day.”

“I’m glad to help,” Neil admitted before he braced himself to ask what had been on his mind for the past hour. “How’s Matt?”

Dan’s smooth brow grew furrowed for a moment before she smiled, the expression small but genuine. “Aw, you’re worried about him? That’s sweet, but don’t get too worked up about what happened, okay? I’ve yelled at him for weeks that he needs a new pair of shoes, that those have no traction left but he kept saying that they’re broken in just right and wouldn’t listen. And what happened? He slipped and landed on his ass.” She shook her head, but Neil could tell that she was concerned about her boyfriend while Mary, pressed against his back, ‘snickered’ next to his ear.

He fought not to shiver from his mother’s presence. “I hear that he wasn’t the only one hurt today.”

All signs of humor, false or not, vanished from Dan’s lovely face. “No, he wasn’t.” She started to gather up the coloring books and toy cars she’d used with Pat as if to buy time to collect her thoughts. “We took in a high-risk kid none of the other agencies wanted to touch, and I guess we found out why today. Everyone will be more on guard around her from now on, but it’s always difficult to believe that a little girl can do so much damage, what can I say.” She gave him another sad smile.

Neil knew very well just how much ‘damage’ a small child could do, had done an awful lot himself to protect himself and his mother when they’d been on the run; he also had come across plenty of ‘child’ spirits, and they were often among the most destructive ones – all that potential cut short, all that outward rage from their confusion and pain over what had happened to them. Adults had a better grasp of ‘death’, of understanding the why of it (that bad things sometimes happened, that they sometimes did things to _make_ it happen), but not children.

It may very well be a child hurt by adults or circumstance lashing out (it was often difficult for them to understand _that_ , too), or one who enjoyed causing mayhem and destruction (a young Nathan or Lola)… or it might be something else entirely. Neil hadn’t survived for so long by not following up on such things, so when they left the playroom, he wasn’t surprised when Mary drifted away once he was in his office so he could prepare for Karima and Jean in another half an hour.

She returned a few minutes before his last session of the day, the coldness pouring from her in waves and outline trembling with rage. / _There’s a new spirit here_./

Another one. Neil nearly rubbed his forehead before he remembered about the healing scratch. “The child?”

/ _It’s attached to her, strong enough to be blood_ ,/ Mary all but spat out.

That meant it would be all the more difficult to exorcise since the stronger the bond holding the spirit ‘bound’, the more force required to ‘sever’ it; Riko had been bad enough because of the years’ close proximity between him and Jean as well as the dark emotions they’d felt for each other.

/ _Abram? It’s even worse_ ,/ she continued after a moment. / _It’s become a poltergeist at this point_./

There were times when Neil wished that he drank, that he could just… just grab a bottle of potent alcohol and drain it dry, but they’d only used it as a painkiller in the direst of circumstances; he couldn’t afford to let his mental guard down, not around strangers, and definitely not around spirits.

A blood-bound spirit was bad enough, but a poltergeist? That was a spirit devoid of everything but the basest impulses, was a pure destructive force. There wasn’t anything left of the girl’s relative except a desire to protect or possess her, evident in how it lashed out at anyone who got too close.

Never let it be said that fate made things easy for Neil – case in point, he had no reason to go anywhere near the girl (or else Wymack would have approached him already with a new assignment), which would make ridding her of the poltergeist all that more difficult.

/ _Stay away from the creature_ ,/ Mary informed him as she pressed against his back and gave his hair a sharp tug to enforce the order.

There was that, too.

Neil resolved himself to her clinging presence as he left for Jean’s art room, and suspected that his… his _friend_ picked up on something being ‘off’ quickly since the young man put some distance between them while he translated for Karima.

As soon as the children were gone, Jean approached but was mindful to keep at least two feet between them. “ _What’s wrong_?”

“ _Have you heard what happened to Dobson earlier_?”

“ _The incident with the child_?” Jean nodded as he rubbed at his braced left wrist. “ _Yes, Jeremy told me about it after he returned from helping Matt_.”

“ _There’s a poltergeist attached to the girl_ ,” Neil warned. “ _Do your best to stay away from her if you can_.”

“ _A… poltergeist_?” Jean’s thick black brows, one of them bisected by a thin scar, drew together in confusion. “ _That doesn’t sound good_.”

Neil nibbled on his bottom lip as he thought of a way to describe it. “ _Think of Riko stripped of what little rationale he still possessed at the end there, his entire being focused on isolating you from everyone and being several times more powerful_.” When Jean cursed beneath his breath, Neil nodded. “ _Yes, the tales of vengeful, destructive spirits are most likely based on poltergeists_.”

“ _And now we’ve one here? That’s not good_.” Jean shivered as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

No, it wasn’t, and Neil had to wonder about the timing; Riko’s presence could be explained away because of Jean, had been an ongoing thing. But for another spirit – one so powerful – to show up while Neil was in residence? That was suspicious.

Yet he wasn’t the only one who had ties to the supernatural; Jean had briefly mentioned ‘Renee’, who was behind the too-obvious wards which had temporarily kept Riko at bay, but had said little other than that she was wonderful and had done her best to help him. Neil couldn’t push too hard right then, not without risking the chance that Jean would shy away and leave him without anymore information on the woman.

He went running after he got home, the exercise helping to clear his head a little, and after a hot shower, he made a bowl of ramen for dinner and curled up in the chair with it, one of his grandmother’s blanket draped over his lap for warmth. “There was the poltergeist back in Baltimore.” He shivered to remember it, one of his father’s victims.

Mary nodded, her head bent over the cup of tea he’d left out for her. / _Then the one in Frankfurt_./                                                                                                                                                            

Neil wrinkled his nose and forced himself to swallow a mouthful of noodles while his right side ached; he could recall the feel of cold claws digging into his side while he’d struggled to reach the packet of salt in his pocket (something Mary had always made him carry). “Another in Salzburg, too,” he said once he’d swallowed his dinner.

/ _Yes, that one you managed to help me with_ ,/ Mary reminded him with evident pride.

By then he’d been old enough – _strong_ enough – to do more than just drive the spirits away, though he hadn’t taken on a spirit by himself until Quebec.

He’d never dealt with a poltergeist by himself, though, and even with Mary there in some form, there to act as interference at the very least… it would require consideration and careful planning before he could do anything about it.

There was also the fact that he’d have to deal with Mary, too.

They talked for a while about the various spirits they’d dealt with while on the run, then Neil washed his empty bowl and brewed them both a fresh cup of tea; he drank his while he read a book before going to bed. For a few minutes he debated getting a television, but the few football games he watched could be viewed on his laptop so he might as well spare the expense.

Besides, he had a nice, warm flat with a comfortable bed, a bathroom with running _hot_ water, a door that was sturdy and possessed of strong locks – what more did he need? It wasn’t like he’d lived in squalor while in London, not with Uncle Stuart looking after him, but after all those years on the run, he was used to living with the basics. All he needed was someplace safe that kept him out of the elements – that and Mary to watch over him and guard his back.

Peter Minkin was still under the weather, so Neil got to avoid Andrew Minyard another day, as well as Betsy Dobson since it appeared that she had chosen to stay home that day. That meant he kept to his office as much as possible (especially since Jean had lunch plans with Jeremy), despite Allison’s increased attempts to spend time together.

He was somewhat tempted since he realized that Jean’s ‘Renee’ and Allison’s girlfriend were one and the same… but it wasn’t as if he could come out and ask ‘does your girlfriend see ghosts?’ or ‘has she warded any spirits from you?’. Those were questions he’d have difficulty asking someone he _knew_ and _trusted_ , let alone someone he barely associated with at work.

Still, from the little that both Allison and Jean spoke of the woman, she sounded… she sounded too good to be true, honestly. Neil wasn’t sure he bought into someone being an ‘absolute’ sweetheart, an ‘angel’, not when he could so easily remember Lola’s pretty dresses and flowery perfume, the gloss of her lipstick and how her lips curved in crocodile smiles which made people fawn over her while her nails dug deeper and deeper into his flesh if he’d been within reach.

He could still so easily remember his father’s impeccable three-piece suits and expensive cologne, red hair combed back neatly and pale blue eyes glittering with a promise of pain that no one but Neil (Nathaniel) ever seemed to notice.

No, he knew all too well that people wore pleasant, even beautiful masks which hid terrible rot and evil beneath, and doubted that this Renee was any different. All he did was fend off Allison’s efforts to take him shopping yet again (why did people care about his clothes so much?) and ask when Renee was supposed to return from her sabbatical.

In a few more weeks, it seemed.

It was possible that he could leave the poltergeist to her, then, if things settled down. Maybe. Somehow he doubted that he could be that lucky.

As if to prove him right, the next day Peter returned to Foxhole Services, which meant that Neil was stuck dealing with Andrew once again. He felt the man’s gaze upon him throughout the hour, heavy and assessing, and fought not to fidget, to give in to the urge to flee the room; it didn’t help that at some point in the last couple of days, the man had come in contact with something that warded Mary from him as she would drift toward him then come to a complete stop around arm’s length away.

One of Renee’s missing wards, perhaps? Had he taken it from Jean’s room? Or had it found its way into his possession somehow? Judging from his lack of reaction to Mary’s presence, Neil doubted he was ‘sensitive’ in any way, not even from constant contact with spirits like Jean had become due to Riko. If that were the case, Mary would have a more difficult time playing her ‘tricks’ on him with the furnishings; she may not be able to touch Andrew anymore, but she could still control the environment around him.

“Why aren’t you working for some big fancy company?” Andrew asked him after their session that day. “Seems to me that you’d make a lot more money translating for lawyers or CEOs than messed up kids.”

“Why are you working with messed up kids in the first place?” Neil shot back as he edged toward the door. “You’re obviously a smart person, you could be doing anything else, maybe be a doctor like your brother.” He noticed how Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed at the mention of Aaron and made a mental note that there was some sort of special relationship between the two – jealousy? Protectiveness? Possessiveness? Neil would have to ask Jean about that, or maybe even Allison since she didn’t think much of Andrew.

“I don’t think you’re cut out for this,” Andrew said in a manner that was clearly meant to be a warning.

“You don’t know anything about me at all.” While Neil spoke, Mary shifted the chairs about just enough so Andrew’s feet would end up tangled in them when he stood up; sure enough, Neil heard cursing behind him as he left the room.

He kept to his office as much as possible for the rest of the day, unwilling to risk running into Andrew in the break room or out in the hallway. When it came time to work with Allison and Camila, he did his best to push aside his anxiety in talking to the forceful woman and remained behind once Camila was gone to engage in ‘small talk’; Allison appeared surprised at first then smiled, her wine-red lips curved in pleasure and blue eyes alight.

He told himself that any resemblance she had to Lola was merely superficial, that his father’s ‘assistant’ would never devote her life to helping children recover from trauma and eating disorders like Allison did, that he had Mary at his back to protect him if by some chance he was wrong. Yet beneath the veneer of expensive clothes and perfectly coifed hair and glossy make-up, Neil could pick up on an earnest need to help and heal.

He hoped that he wasn’t wrong.

“Have you reconsidered letting me take you shopping?” she asked with an eager smile. “Just tell me when and I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Sorry, but I still think that my wardrobe is just fine,” Neil said, extra-aware of where Mary was at all times. He hoped that his mother remembered that Allison had a _girlfriend_ and so couldn’t be interested in him.

“It’s not _fine_ ,” Allison scoffed, her husky voice made thicker with derision. “It’s pathetic, but I’ll bring you round eventually. Do you want to go to dinner instead? I know some great restaurants.”

Why was she so eager to spend time with him, especially when she was dating someone? “No, I just… I’m not in a hurry to do some evaluations and thought you might want to chat,” he said, which was mostly the truth.

“Oh.” That seemed to surprise her again. “Always for a cutie like you,” Allison all but purred, which made Mary ‘shiver’ with displeasure. “It’s a relief to know that you gossip like the rest of us mere mortals.”

“Well, I’m the new guy.” Neil gave a slight smile while he wrapped his arms around himself to fend off the cold that was pouring from his mother. “I wanted to try to make somewhat a good impression first before I started talking about everyone.”

“And that you did.” Allison propped her elbows on the table with her chin resting on her clasped hands while she batted her eyes at him for a couple of seconds. “So, what do you want to hear? You know about Dan and Matt, everyone does, and you have to have picked up on Jeremy’s crush on Jean, right?” She gave a throaty chuckle when he nodded. “What does that leave? If Wymack and Abby are doing it or not, or what shit Andrew has pulled lately, or-“

“Uhm, what about Andrew?” Neil asked while Mary pressed against his back upon mention of the young man’s name.

“Ah-ha, we have a winner.” Allison grimaced a little as she sat back in her chair. “I thought that might interest you, considering you’re stuck with the monster, and this could take _hours_.” She gave him a sour look. “We really do need to go out for drinks one night.”

“I don’t drink,” Neil told her. “Alcohol doesn’t… agree with me.” That wasn’t quite a lie, he thought as he tugged the cuffs of his pale blue sweater over the fingers of his hand.

Something akin to understanding flashed across Allison’s lovely face. “Ah, well, we can figure something else out, that’s not a problem. Anyway,” she continued as she flicked her wine-red manicured fingernails in the air, “Andrew Minyard. Like I said, there’s a lot going on there, and I’m not privy to everything. I know he was in the foster-care system while a child, that he and Aaron weren’t raised together because their mother put Andrew up for adoption but kept Aaron.”

That surprised Neil, enough that he showed it, especially with Mary muttering about negligent bitches in his ear and how she’d _never_ do a thing like that, would never let him go. Allison picked up on the emotion and gave a slight nod. “Yes, it’s a commonly known fact here but not much beyond that – Andrew was raised in California and something happened so his path crossed with Betsy’s, and Aaron found out about him eventually. Andrew came out to Columbia to live with Aaron and their mother when he was around sixteen, but I guess the woman was an all-around mess so when Betsy soon moved out as well to help David set up the Foxhole, she checked up Andrew and found grounds to become the twins’ foster mother.” Allison leaned in closer as if to share a secret. “Nicky said that Tilda, their birth mother, OD’ed not long after that. He came back from Germany for the funeral and found out about Andrew, and ended up staying to help Betsy. Long story short, the whole family’s a mess, but Betsy’s done what she can to help them out, Andrew and Aaron have some weird bond going on between them despite the fact that they lived apart most of their lives, and Nicky’s husband Erik is wonderful.” She sat back again and tapped the nails of her right hand twice against the table. “Nicky’s not too bad, either, Aaron’s an insufferable bastard most of the time but you can get Katelyn to smack him down pretty easily, while Andrew is basically what you see, an asshole through and through.”

That was difficult to argue with, but…. “He cares about the kids, or at least Peter, from what I can see,” Neil stated.

“There is that,” Allison agreed with a slight frown. “Wymack wouldn’t have hired him if he didn’t, not even with Betsy speaking for him. He’s great with the kids, I guess his past helps, but the only person he gets along with outside of his family is Renee.”

Why wasn’t Neil surprised to learn that there was a connection between the two? “They’re friends?”

“Yes.” Allison sounded a little bitter over the fact. “I don’t know what she sees in the monster, even though she swears that he’s a good guy all the time.” She rolled her eyes at that statement. “But what can I say? Renee’s an utter sweetheart and is always seeing the best in people.” A delicate sneer came over Allison’s lips as she reached out to pinch at Neil’s left sleeve while he went perfectly still. “She’d have something good to say about _your_ wardrobe, even, about how you dress for yourself and don’t waste resources or something like that.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Neil said while Mary hissed in his right ear about Allison being too ‘forward’. “Ah, I should get going, but thank you.”

“Any time, ragamuffin,” Allison told him with a smile. “But sooner or later we will go shopping, mark my words. Maybe drag you off for a trim as well.”

Neil ran his right hand through his hair, which he felt was fine as is; he cut it himself when it got too long. “Uhm… bye.”

Mary was talkative for the rest of the day, furious about the connection between the mysterious Renee and Andrew, about the thought of a mother abandoning their child and Allison’s misplaced belief that she could swoop into Neil’s life and take it over in some way. He put up with blasts of cold and tugs on his hair while he was in the office, and not even the secondhand joy he felt when he helped Karima with part of her art project made things better, not when it was back to the grocery store after work where he kept his head down and did his best not to talk to anyone, to use the one register with the older man who rushed people through with little fuss so he could get what he needed and out of there without incident.

Only to have someone bump into him on the way to the car, too busy talking on their phone to pay any attention, and for Neil to be filled with anger/annoyance/disgust until he wanted to curl up in a protective ball – until Mary pushed the man yelling into his phone away with enough force that he smacked into a parked car hard enough to dent it and set off its alarm.

Neil grabbed the bag of groceries he’d dropped (luckily the one containing the box of hair dye and paper towels) and scrambled to his own car while people gathered around the wheezing stranger, his skin still crawling from the contact and mind filled with terrible memories from the past, and ran two stop signs on his way home.

He didn’t eat that night, just had several cups of tea while he huddled in his bed with Mary next to him.

The next day he focused on work, on the children, and wouldn’t look at Andrew while they were in the same room together. He picked up on the other man’s displeasure, aware of other people and their moods as always, but Mary placed herself between them while he translated between English and Russian, and as soon as Abby arrived for the boy, Neil headed for the door.

“Josten, I have-“

“ _Leave me alone_ ,” Neil said in Russian, which made Peter give him an odd look; he had almost said ‘fuck off’, but had remembered about the boy just in time. Then he spent the time between sessions and working with Betsy Dobson in an empty room he’d found, mindful of not touching any of the dusty surfaces with his fingers as he basically hid from Andrew Minyard.

Betsy Dobson still had some bruising on her face and her right hand was covered with bandages, but her brown eyes were clear and assessing (too assessing) as Neil sat in her office and gave his opinion of Peter and Karima.

“She appears to be responding well to the art therapy,” Dobson remarked as she typed one-handed. “And is eager to make friends. Allison has talked about a dance class she wants to try, nothing too challenging but some simple steps that would get the children moving and build some self-esteem as well as encourage them to work together. What do you think? Could she manage that alone or would you need to be there?”

Neil considered it then nodded. “I may need to help for the first few lessons but Karima’s very adaptable and I think she’d pick it up quickly. She’s already figured out how to communicate with a couple of the children in Jean’s class and it encourages her to learn English that much faster.”

“We don’t want to erase the children’s native culture, but anything that helps them assimilate faster is good.” Dobson typed again for about a minute and nodded. “I’ll tell Allison to ahead with it.”

They talked for another ten minutes or so before Neil stood up to leave, Mary a watchful presence at his side. “Neil… how are you doing?” Dobson asked before he could take more than a step away from her desk. “It’s always a challenge to start a new job, and in a new city at that. You’re away from family and friends, and I just want to make sure that you’re adjusting well on your own.”

/ _You’re **never** alone_ ,/ Mary hissed as she glared at the psychiatrist.

“I’m fine,” Neil assured the woman as he fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves, only to stop when he noticed how that caught her attention. “My family helps out a lot.”

“That’s good, but know that there’s people here if you need additional help,” Dobson offered with a friendly smile. “We can be more than your coworkers, Neil.”

/ _They’ll never be more than that. **Never**_./

Neil gave a solemn nod which he knew Dobson would interpret as being meant for her. “Thank you. Have a good day,” he wished the woman as he continued leaving, intent on being out the door before Mary did something spiteful – for once she followed without playing any of her ‘tricks’.

/ _These people mean nothing to us, Abram_./

“I know, Mum,” he whispered when they were out in the hall. “They’re not blood.”

/ _No, they’re not Hatfords_ ,/ she agreed, and appeared appeased for the next few hours.

He had a nightmare that night, was back in Baltimore and in the _basement_ , was in the horrid room entrenched with pain and suffering and death, so much so that it crept through the soles of Neil’s (Nathaniel’s) shoes and the thickest sweaters he could wear, as insidious as ivy sinking its roots in old stone. He stood there shivering from the barrage of terrible emotions, all too aware of the two ghosts lingering in the far left corner as his father placed a gleaming knife in his hand ( _painpainpain **pain**_ ) in his right hand and pushed him toward the still form on the table while going on about joints and ligaments while the one ghost’s furious screeching filled his head and-

He couldn’t hold down anything more than weak tea that morning, not with his nerves scraped raw from remembered emotions, not when he could still feel that knife in his hand and recall where exactly to cut to sever a person’s lower leg from their body.

Mary knocked the person in flat 13B to the floor because they came too close to him on his way to the stairs, and tripped another person out in the parking lot when he muttered something about Neil looking like shit.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that it turned out to be a day when Peter broke down at one of the images in the coloring book and cried about his mother, about the time his father had hurt her over dinner being late. Neil translated as quickly as he could the story to Andrew and then, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out to hand the boy his favorite stuffed animal. Peter seized it then turned to bury his face into Neil’s middle, which caught him off-guard and made him pat the upset child on the head.

( _Sorrow/regret/fear/loneliness_ )

He bit down on his lower lip to keep a gasp from slipping free while Mary hovered off to the side, upset that someone was touching him but unwilling to harm a small child. Pulling the sleeves farther over his hands, Neil gave Peter a gentle hug then pushed him away under the pretext of wiping away the tears slipping down the child’s face (mindful to not risk any skin on skin contact). “ _Hey, it’s all right_ ,” he said. “ _I know you miss her, but it’s all right_. _We’re trying to find her_.” He didn’t promise that she would come back alive, though.

“ _I miss her so much_ ,” Peter sobbed.

“ _Of course you do, she’s your mother_.” Off to the side, Andrew was busy on his phone, probably texting Abby or Dobson. “ _But you’re helping her by talking_.”

“ _I want her back_ ,” Peter wailed as the tears poured down faster.

“ _I know_ ,” Neil repeated, at a loss at what more to do.

Fortunately, Abby showed up a minute or two later, Abby and Robin, and the two of them soon soothed Peter despite him barely understanding them to the point that he was sniffling back the tears as Robin carried him out of the room. Drained by the ordeal, Neil ran trembling hands through his hair and slumped against the nearest wall while Andrew gathered up the items he used to draw information out of the children.

“The police think they have a lead on where Renat Minkin may have disposed of his wife’s body,” Andrew told him once everything was back in his leather satchel. “Everything Peter’s telling us helps when it comes to testimony, to ensure he’ll never see the bastard again.”

“That’s good.” Neil inhaled deeply before he forced himself away from the wall. “I hope they have enough of a case to go for the death penalty.” That way there wouldn’t be a chance of the man getting free and coming after Peter, not if he was dead.

Neil would make sure he couldn’t reach the boy from beyond the grave, either.

Andrew gave Neil an assessing look before he clicked his tongue. “Not one to believe in reform and redemption, I see.”

“Some people don’t deserve it for what they’ve done,” Neil said as he took a step toward the door.

“The world’s a cruel place,” Andrew remarked as he followed, mindful to leave some distance between them (he was learning).

“It’s not the world that’s cruel, it’s the people in it who are,” Neil insisted as he gazed at his mother, at the person who had to give up everything to protect him, her own life, even, from monsters in human form.

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, either to argue or to ask a question, but his phone ringing distracted him and allowed Neil to escape to his office. Once there, he busied himself with work to keep himself from thinking of the past.

Allison surprised him by handing over a small box once their session with Camila was done. “Since you won’t go shopping with me _yet_ , I decided to get you something,” she said while he eyed the box as if it would blow up at any moment. “And I already threw away the receipt, so you _have_ to accept it.”

“But I-“

“Take it,” she gritted out as she shoved it closer. “You could use it, right? I don’t know what the deal is, poor circulation or what, but use them and surprise me by wearing a sweater only one size too big, okay?”

He hesitated a few more seconds before opening the box (he picked up a sense of smugness and accomplishment from it, as well as genuine affection, which was… was startling) while Mary muttered about overbearing Yanks. Inside of it was gold tissue paper which he pushed aside to reveal finely knit grey gloves of some sort of material (cashmere?) which would leave only the tips of his fingers bare.

“They’re for people who type a lot but want to keep their hands warm,” Allison explained. “I almost got you a sweater with thumbhole sleeves, but I figured we’d start small.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” he argued. “Not even these.”

“Too late,” she sang out as she stood up. “Now put them on and give me a smile as ‘thanks’.” She tapped her high heeled right foot and gave him a pointed look until he did as he was told; the material was soft and warm, and he could use most of his hands to grasp things without coming into contact with it while wearing the gloves.

“Thank you,” he told her while a small, shy smile curved his lips.

Allison gazed at him for a couple of seconds before she threw her hands up in the air for some reason. “Oh, you are _such_ trouble,” she declared while she shook her head. “And you’re welcome, ragamuffin. Just wait until I start up my dance class.” Upon uttering that cryptic remark, she picked up her purse and left the room.

/ _Arrogant Americans_ ,/ Mary complained while Neil rubbed his gloved left hand against his cheek.

“I think she means well?”

/ _Perhaps_ ,/ Mary said as she stroked fingers through his hair, then gave the strands a harsh tug. / _And perhaps she thinks to lull you into trusting her, so she can stab you in the back. Remember, Abram, never trust_ -/

“Never trust anyone who isn’t a Hatford,” he whispered as he lowered his hand. “I haven’t forgotten your lessons.”

/ _Sometimes I wonder, boy_./ Still, she didn’t say anything about the gloves, which he hoped he could keep for a few days at least before he had to make up a story about them being lost or destroyed.

Jean had invited him to lunch again, but he’d turned down the invite since he still didn’t have much of an appetite and had tea and an orange in his office instead later in the day, certain that Andrew would leave him alone since Nicky had let slip that his cousin was busy with preparing for another court case. Feeling tired and a bit claustrophobic from being indoors all day, Neil took a brief walk outside to clear his head; Mary commented on how the weather was finally cooling off to a suitable temperature at last and that it looked as if it might rain soon.

Seeing David Wymack standing outside in the smoking area with Andrew Minyard, Neil ducked his head and took the nearest door inside, unwilling to talk to his employer (let alone _Andrew_ ); the man had always treated him with respect and, while a bit gruff, kept his hands to himself and _seemed_ nice enough, but Neil was leery of any adult men who were around the same age of his father (if the man was still alive) other than his uncles – especially if those men possessed a similar build to Nathan Wesninski. David Wymack might not be the infamous Butcher of Baltimore, but he had the same broad shoulders and large hands, had muscular biceps and a physique which indicated strength despite being almost thirty years older than Neil.

Neil wasn’t going to take any chances of that strength being turned against him even with Mary as his ever-present shield.

He slipped inside the one side door and ignored Wymack calling out his name, and went down a hallway that he barely used (he’d made sure to canvas the building after he accepted the job to mark all exits and memorize its layout). He should be around the ‘reinforced’ rooms – the ones with the tables bolted to the floor, the heavier chairs and little else in them where sessions with the more problematic children were held, which he’d had no need to revisit since the children he worked with were well-behaved.

Around halfway down the hall, he felt… felt something _wrong_ ; his stomach, which had finally settled down, twisted with repulsion and threatened to rebel until he managed to get it under control, in part due to Mary almost wrapping around and shielding him with her cold, familiar presence.

/ _Poltergeist, just like I said_./

“Yeah,” Neil breathed out, a faint mist forming in front of him from the chill in the air, as Mary all but shoved him forward; he remembered how awful being around such creatures made him feel, as if a viscous, polluted oil had somehow coated his inner being.

Perhaps the creature had sense them as well, because they’d barely reached the end of the hall when the screaming started; Neil was about to ignore it when he heard Dan’s raised voice and realized that she was in the room with the poltergeist.

/ _Abram_ …./

“I know we can’t do anything too obvious, let’s just settle it for now,” he told his mother as he spun around. “We can’t risk this thing drawing too much attention.”

/ _Smack it down for now, that’s all!/_

There was movement down the end of the hall and the sound of the outer door closing, which Neil ignored as he ran toward the one room; he caught a bit of black and then was at the orange-painted door with a small, reinforced window, which allowed him to look inside where he saw one of the lights above sparking as if it was malfunctioning while Dan tried her best to shield a young girl. As Neil opened the door, the light broke free from one of its moorings, causing it to partially swing down from the ceiling; Mary prevented it from striking into Neil (and Dan) while off to the side, the poltergeist stood on a chair pushed away from the table.

It still retained the shape of a young boy, perhaps around thirteen or fourteen years old… well, mostly. Its eyes were sunken black pits and its mouth speckled with black as well, as if rot had taken hold and begun to spread from the inside, and when it screamed at Neil, its jaw opened too wide – much like a snake’s mouth. Ragged black claws tipped its fingers, which reached for him, but it didn’t move from the chair, not with Mary cursing the foul thing while Neil reached into his back pocket for small packet of salt he carried there for ‘emergencies’.

While Dan was still bent protectively over the caterwauling child, he sprinkled the salt in a line on the floor near her… right around when Andrew burst into the room, his face flushed and left arm wrapped around his chest. His eyes darted down to the floor then to Neil’s right hand before glancing around the disheveled room (the hanging light, the heavy chairs strewn about, the torn books and what looked to be a dismembered teddy bear).

Distracted by the man’s arrival, both Neil and Mary took their attention away from the poltergeist for a moment, which was a mistake.

********

“I already told you, he came highly recommended,” Wymack gritted out as he flicked off the ashes on his cigarette. “So drop it, you annoying midget.”

It was on the tip of Andrew’s tongue to ask just how ‘highly rated’ an ex-con was, but _someone_ might be a bit petty with the holiday bonus if he did and the GS needed new tires. “I don’t trust him.”

“Holy shit, stop the presses,” Wymack said in a sarcastic tone. “What else is new? It takes you at least six months to stop stalking the new people, unless they’re related to you or Robin.”

Actually, it was more like eight months. “There’s something off about him.”

Wymack scoffed so loudly that his throat had to hurt. “Look who the hell is talking.” When Andrew gave him the finger, he rolled his eyes. “The kid is doing a great job, the rest of the staff likes him, even _Jean_ is friendly with him so shut the hell up about this, okay?” Wymack glared while he inhaled on his cigarette. “Do anything to mess with the new guy and Renee will have a buddy to help her out on her next sabbatical.”

“As if I’d be caught dead building chicken coops in the middle of nowhere,” Andrew sneered.

“Exactly.”

Andrew gave his boss a cold look for that threat (it was better than the usual one of signing everyone up for a group marathon) until he caught a glimpse of someone approaching them – a ‘someone’ who turned out to be one Neil Josten, who didn’t smoke as far as he knew. The man was walking around the perimeter of the building and quickly darted into the one side door despite Wymack calling out his name, which made Palmetto State’s owner and director sigh as he stubbed out his cigarette. “See that? He doesn’t want anything to do with you, which means you need to back the fuck off, okay?”

“You’re the one who called out to him,” Andrew said before he took one last drag on his own cigarette. “Seems to me that he was avoiding _you_.”

“Andrew,” Wymack said in that ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone of voice he rarely used. “ _Back off_. We’re not going to be able to afford another translator like him if you scare Josten away, do you understand me?”

That just begged the question of how they’d afforded a translator like Josten in the first place, didn’t it? Yet all Andrew did was drop the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out while he gave his boss a quick salute, then went to the doors which Josten had rabbited into as quickly as he could.

As soon as he entered the building, he could hear a familiar screaming and felt the impulse to go back for another cigarette before he sighed and broke into a run, which didn’t do his healing ribs any damn favors. The Foxhole used to be _so much quieter_ before a certain enigma had showed up, hadn’t it? Yes, there’d been the occasional problem child or bastard parent to show up and cause trouble, but nothing like _this_.

He all but slid into the room to find sparks filling the air and Josten sprinkling something white (most likely not cocaine) on the floor in front of a huddled Dan and a shrieking Amelia; Josten stared at him in surprise, and just as Andrew was about to say something (perhaps ask if that was good drugs being wasted), a chair came flying across the room.

A chair that had to weigh at least forty pounds, which _no one_ had thrown.

No one _visible_ , at least.

Andrew threw up his right arm while he grabbed Josten with his left in a futile attempt to pull the annoying bastard toward him, except the chair stopped in midair about three inches short of hitting Josten, right around the same time that Josten took to chanting something beneath his breath, something harsh and fast. Andrew thought it contained the words ‘begone’, but it was hard to tell with Amelia’s shrill cries and Dan trying to calm the girl down, along with the damn light acting as if it was the Fourth of July.

He _did_ pick up on that the weird accent from last week was back.

Josten’s face was set in concentration and his eyes narrowed as he stared into the one back corner, and the cross on Andrew’s chest grew warmer all of a sudden, grew almost hot against his skin while the chair spun in the air and sparks flew and… and Josten made a slashing motion with his hands through the air in a ‘x’ shape right before the chair fell to the ground and the sparks stopped as the one light sputtered out and Amelia took to wailing out her brother’s name.

The cross felt almost cold, and it was almost then that Andrew realized that the room was freezing, that he could see each time he breathed out.

Josten slumped onto the table, his face drawn and hands trembling (why were there grey half-gloves on them?) while Dan slowly straightened up, Amelia still wailing and clutched to her chest. “Holy fu-aahdge,” she drew out as she stroked her hands over Amelia’s hair. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Andrew gave her a blank look while he pulled out his phone to text Wymack. “Bad wiring,” was all he said. “And you?”

Dan let out a weary sigh which turned into a wince when Amelia kicked her in the shin. “I’ve had better sessions.” She wrapped her arms a little tighter around the girl and tried to soothe her, to tell her that she wasn’t in trouble for wrecking things as she did her best to get her out into the hallway. They’d just left when Andrew heard Wymack’s concerned voice ring out, and knew that Dan had the help she needed in dealing with the girl.

That left him with Josten, at least for a few more seconds. “You’re going to tell me what the hell is going on,” he insisted as he glanced around at the swinging light (barely hanging by one bracket and wires), the chairs strewn about (including the one that had ‘flown’ by itself), and a teddy bear head which skittered about on the floor for about a foot until it stopped.

“Why?” Josten asked in an exhausted, quiet voice, with blueish circles around his dark eyes. “It’s your word against mine. How many pain pills have you taken today?”

“The rabbit thinks he’s amusing.” He held Josten’s gaze despite more debris shifting about. “You talk to me and I won’t say anything to anyone else.” When Josten remained quiet and the cross on his chest grew heated again, he felt a sudden inspiration. “We’ll exchange a few truths, how about that? You tell me one, and I’ll tell you one.”

Things grew still around them while Josten nibbled on his bottom lip for a couple of seconds. “All right,” he agreed, while Andrew noticed that yes, that was a British accent. “Not here, though.”

“No.” He had Josten’s phone number, though, thanks to Seth, and no plans for the weekend thanks to his bruised ribs. “Tomorrow.”

There was a flash of anger in those false brown eyes, but Kevin chose then to poke his head into the room and let out a string of curses when he noticed the damage, then yell at the two of them to get the hell out of it before they were electrocuted. That put an end to the ‘discussion’ (negotiation) for the moment, but Andrew could wait a little longer for answers, now that he knew they’d be forthcoming at last.

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> And that's it? Again, no set posting schedule right now, though hoping w/ the holidays coming up that I'll be able to get more writing done rather than less. Hoping to get RP and some prompts done in the next couple of weeks, then back to this!
> 
> Also, a comment, because I've had a discussion or two about Mary and Neil - obviously I don't see Mary as a very sympathetic character and how she treats Neil is bad. Yes, she protects him and in her own way, she has tiny moments of affection. She kept him alive, but it was at great cost. In this fic, not only did she have to contend with Nathan, but Neil being an empath of sorts (if you haven't picked up on that) and sensitive/able to see ghosts. She couldn't be 'gentle' to him in her mind. That still doesn't excuse everything she's done, how she didn't get him out of Baltimore sooner, why she didn't send him off to her brothers or any other options. 
> 
> In a way, it's like Stockholm Syndrome - not 100%, but a lot like it. He can excuse the abuse, the harsh treatment, because Mary ensures that he's not killed. It's for his own good. It's a very twisted relationship, and it's even worse here because it's basically the only relationship that Neil's ever known (save the Hatfords, and as much as I love them, they're still tied to Mary and the mafia).
> 
> Until now, that is.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos.


	3. Even if it Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Sorry, still no set posting schedule for the next few weeks (I'm hoping it gets better sometime in February), but for now, a new chapter!
> 
> *hangs head in shame* Uhm... so... yeah, been plotting this out and all.... I give up. Maybe this isn't going to be a short story after all. I fail at this writing stuff.
> 
> But I SWEAR it won't be like half a million words! I SWEAR IT!!!
> 
> Anyway... you get more insight into Neil and the Hatfords, a lot of Andrew, and someone finally shows up.
> 
> And so much thanks to @fall-for-the-game for the beta, as always!
> 
> Uhm.... warnings are references to Andrew's past, real vague though. Think that's it?

*******

Neil braced himself for his mother’s temper once they were alone in the flat, having already suffered through her tugging on his hair and blasts of cold during the drive home. As soon as the front door was closed and locked behind him, she whirled around the living room and knocked books aside while he went into the kitchen to put on a pot of water for tea.

/ _Why, Abram? Why did you agree to the bastard’s terms? To say so much? Start packing your bag, we’re leaving_ ,/ Mary insisted.

He stepped away from the stove and braced himself. “No,” he told his mother. “We’re not.”

She crossed the space between them in seconds, an iridescent blur of rage and fear and paranoia, and he didn’t attempt to block the blow that rocked his head to the side as cold settled into his bones. / _Pack your bag!_ / her voice rattled inside his head. / _We’re leaving **now**_!/

“No,” he repeated, and nearly bit into the tip of his tongue when he was smacked again. “Stuart will come if we do!” he warned when she grabbed his hair. “Stuart will come and maybe take me back to England!” There was a sharp tug on the strands then she stilled, still an icy presence against his side and emotions so potent that they bled through into him. “You heard him and Aunt Miriam, they’re growing worried about me – worried and suspicious.”

Mary was still a few seconds longer before she floated away. / _You shouldn’t have agreed with the Yank bastard. He has a ward or something on him_./

Neil closed his eyes for a moment as he brushed his fingers along his sore left cheek. “I agreed _because_ he has a ward on him, mum. He knows something, so it’s best to ensure that he stays quiet.” He opened his eyes and reached for two mugs and the tin of tea, hands busy to distract himself from the pain. “From what Jean and Allison have said, he’s the type who takes looking after his family seriously so he won’t back off unless I give him something. We’ll talk and if he’s a problem… well, I’ll let Stuart know.”

That seemed to appease his mother, whose translucent form solidified as she roamed around the small flat. / _Why not call Stuart now?_ /

“Because there’s already enough happening at work without an employee disappearing or having an accident, so I’d rather save that as a last resort.” Andrew struck Neil as someone who wouldn’t just up and leave his family, and suspected that Aaron, Betsy and Nicky would have a difficult time accepting the man’s sudden death. “Let’s see how tomorrow goes.”

/ _This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t interfered_ ,/ Mary pointed out as she threw one of his books around the room. / _I told you to stay away from the poltergeist_./

“Yes,” Neil agreed with a sigh. “But it’s attracting too much attention.” Once again he wondered about the odds of the girl, Amelia, showing up where he worked with such a powerful poltergeist attached to her. “We’re going to have to do something about it after all.”

There was another blast of cold to signify his mother’s displeasure, but no more smacks or tugs on his hair when she drifted over as the tea kettle whistled. / _It’ll be good experience for you, I suppose_./

He smiled at that as he poured some hot water into the waiting tea pot to warm it up then, after dumping the water out, added tea leaves and more hot water. “I’ll need to prepare first.” It took more energy and effort to exorcise a poltergeist than a regular ghost.

His mother placated for the time being, he heated up ramen with chicken and hard boiled eggs for dinner while the tea stepped, and sat down to eat after he poured them each a cup to enjoy. It was while she hovered over her own mug and after he’d had a few bites of dinner that he dared to ask a question that he’d long pondered and always wanted to ask.

“Mum… can Stuart see ghosts? Can any of the Hatfords?”

She was so quiet that he figured that she wouldn’t answer the question and went back to eating his meal, and nearly choked on a bite of egg when she did speak.

/ _Will… not really, the most he can do is vaguely sense if a ghost is around_ ,/ she explained in the wistful manner she often had when dwelling on her brothers. / _Stuart couldn’t see them as well as me, but he’s stronger than Will._ / The tea sloshed around in the mug near her but never escaped past the rim. / _I was stronger than them, could exorcise ghosts when I was thirteen, yet they thought they had to protect me, that I should stay home and do nothing. I wasn’t going to sit there and do **nothing**_./

“No, mum,” Neil said in a quiet voice as he thought of his mother leaving her family to marry _Nathan Wesninski_ , of someone so fierce and independent trapped in a marriage with a controlling sadist just to… to what? Escape her loving yet overbearing family?

Things had gone more than a little pear-shaped with that plan, hadn’t they?

/ _Which is why they can’t know about you, Abram_ ,/ she continued as she wrapped around him, as her fingers combed through his hair. / _If they know you’re so powerful? That you can do more than see ghosts? They’ll try to keep you ‘safe’, too. That’s why I didn’t stay with them when we ran away from Baltimore. Why I was happy when you left London._ /

“I know, mum.” He shivered, not from the cold of her presence but from the memory of learning that his father had found out about his abilities and decided to sell him off to whoever would pay the most for him, uncaring if he’d end up a test subject or worse. He also remembered how Mary would ‘disappear’ whenever her brothers were around Neil when he lived first with Stuart and then in his own small flat while he attended uni (tried to cobble together some sort of new life for himself).

“It’s why we have to make this new job work, can’t you see?” he argued with her. “Will and Stuart really helped me out to get it, not to mention the university degree and the new identity.” They’d pulled strings to get him into the SOAS University of London, a small but well-ranked school where he hadn’t been overwhelmed by being around too many people and had even been able to take some classes online. When he’d told them he was moving back to the States, they’d created his ‘Neil Josten’ identity to provide more distance between him and the family. “I don’t want to keep being in their debt.”

Being in someone’s debt meant they could call the ‘bill’ due at any moment, even if they were family.

Especially if they were family. The only blood Neil truly trusted was his mother, and that was because she’d died for him.

How many times had he watched some parent fuss and smile over a child, seen similar interactions between siblings or married couples, and then brushed against one of them or touched an item they’d left behind to sense what they _really_ felt? The anger and hatred and jealousy? The possessiveness bordering on destructiveness? Or worse, the utter uncaring?

Then there was his father.

No, blood could mean nothing and often did, he knew that well. People were cruel and capricious, which was why it was so important to remain loyal to those who wouldn’t betray you.

He finished his meal, washed his bowl and made some more tea for the two of them before he went into the living room to tidy up the small mess then settle into the chair to read a few chapters before bed. It was about half an hour later when the texts from Andrew came through to his phone, which startled him at first because it was late for his family to text him.

Andrew wanted to meet at a coffee shop, which Neil supposed made sense since it was neutral ground for both of them and meant that Mary wouldn’t be able to pull too many tricks without attracting unwanted attention. / _That’s a clever bastard_ ,/ she said with obvious bitterness.

“He’s a prat, but not stupid,” Neil agreed; he wasn’t pleased with being out in public like that, in a place with so many strangers around, where he might touch them and surfaces which contained their memories/emotions… but it appeared that he didn’t have much of a choice.

/ _Clever bastards are easy to trip up_ ,/ Mary swore as she tugged on the hem of the knitted blanket draped over Neil’s lap. / _So convinced they know everything_./

Neil hoped that was true as he texted Andrew back that he’d see him tomorrow, because he really didn’t want to leave Columbia and his job at Palmetto Services, didn’t want to go on the run again if Mary’s warning proved true. He enjoyed helping the children and he’d hoped to find a home at last, at least for a little while.

Was that too much to ask?

*******

Knowing Josten’s preference for arriving early, Andrew reached the coffee house half an hour before he’d told the man to meet him there, determined to arrive first for once. He ordered a large double mocha and a slice of chocolate cake then picked a table in the far back, away from the other customers with his back to the wall, and exchanged a few texts with Aaron and Nicky while he waited.

As expected, there had been some ‘excitement’ at work over… whatever the hell had happened in the one room with Dan and the new kid. The official story was faulty wiring and another nuclear meltdown on behalf of the kid, and if she was at anyplace other than Palmetto Services she’d probably be on her way out the door, doped to the gills as she was labeled too mentally unstable to go into foster care.

But she _was_ at Palmetto Services, and it took more than sparking lights and flying chairs for them to abandon a kid in need. Dan was more determined than ever to reach her, and Andrew to figure out the truth behind one ‘Neil Josten’.

Especially since all the weird shit seemed to have started _after_ Neil had arrived at Palmetto Services.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear – one Neil Josten walked through the door, dressed in worn, faded black jeans, running sneakers, and a large, navy blue peacoat which all but swallowed him up. He glanced around once he stepped inside the coffee shop, dark eyes darting about until he noticed Andrew in the back, then went to order something. While Andrew watched, he swore that some teenager too busy looking at his phone was shoved back a good two feet when he nearly walked into Neil’s back while he waited in line.

For someone who never was on his phone at work (that Andrew had seen) and refused to give out his number or personal information so his coworkers could message or contact him on various social media, Andrew was surprised when Josten used his phone to pay for his drink, then watched how he waited for the employee to set the drink down before he picked it up once it was ready. Hmm, did someone have a phobia? Andrew thought about all the times he’d seen Josten and couldn’t recall him willingly touching anyone.

Which made it interesting when someone tried to move their chair back from a table when Josten headed toward the back, where Andrew sat, only for that invisible… whatever around the young man to shove the woman back toward the table. Josten didn’t react, merely continued on his way and set his beverage down on the table then shrugged off his coat before he sat opposite of Andrew, appearing unconcerned at having his back to everyone.

“Minyard.”

Andrew pushed the empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair despite the slight twinge it provoked in his bruised ribs. “You have a thing for being early?”

“I was taught that it’s rude to be late,” Josten said as he wrapped his hands around his drink; he wore an overlarge dark grey sweatshirt with thumbhole sleeves, which only left the uppermost tips of his fingers exposed. “As is basically extorting people to talk to you.”

Andrew clicked his tongue together and fought the urge for a cigarette since the place was non-smoking. “Somehow I feel that’s a jab at me, but I distinctly remember us making a deal – a truth for a truth. So start talking.”

“Here. You want to talk here.” Neil’s fake brown eyes glanced around while his long, elegant fingers (well, the tips at least) tapped against the cup of what looked to be tea, judging from the printed label on it. “Brilliant.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Andrew said as he switched to German. “ _Let’s begin with you telling me what the hell that thing was, yesterday, and don’t try to say that it’s bad wiring. I saw a chair hover in the air, and that’s not the first time weird shit has happened around the girl_.”

Josten nibbled on his full bottom lip for a couple of seconds then shivered; Andrew sensed the air grow cold around them and the plate moved an inch before Josten shook his head. “ _It might be a bit difficult to believe_.”

He didn’t seem surprised that Andrew knew German, but then again, Andrew was related to Nicky. It also spoke of Josten being highly adaptable, which was something that Andrew would have to remember for the future. “ _I’ve a very open mind_.”

Josten scoffed at that as he brushed back the hair falling onto his face, which drew Andrew’s attention to the fact that his left cheek was swollen and red, as if he’d been smacked recently.

He hadn’t been injured when he left work yesterday.

“ _Open enough to believe in the supernatural_?”

The question distracted Andrew from Neil’s marred face and made him think of the cross hanging heavy and warm around his neck before he opened his mouth and say that was ridiculous. Instead, he had a sip of his cooling coffee and remembered Renee telling him to take a ‘leap of faith’, remembered what had happened yesterday and the week before out in the parking lot. “ _So what is it? Superpowers or unnatural beings_?” he asked instead.

It was quiet again while Josten’s gaze grew vacant for about a minute, then he shivered. “ _Yesterday… yesterday was what you’d call a poltergeist_ ,” he explained as he stared at his drink as if afraid to look anywhere else.

“ _So a ghost_.”

“ _No, not a ghost_ ,” Neil snapped as he gazed at Andrew once more; for some reason Andrew took that as a victory of sorts. “ _Not exactly. That’s like saying a tiger is a housecat or a samurai sword is a utensil, it’s a grave misclassification_.”

“ _And why is that_?” Andrew asked, intrigued despite himself by… intrigued despite himself.

“ _Because… because a ghost can be harmless, can be an unfocused remnant. Not always, but sometimes, especially if their death was non-violent. Their powers also vary, it’s why you have some stories where all they do is appear now and then to people, or maybe you have things move around. Poltergeists?”_ Neil shivered again and paused to sip his tea. “ _They’re the basis of the more violent stories, of when people are hurt and things destroyed because they’re created out of violence and trauma. And if they’re attached to someone from their previous life? Then they’ll destroy whoever gets between them and that person or anything they see as a threat to the person.”_

Andrew wished he could have a cigarette while he thought about everything Josten had just said right then, and about what hadn’t been said. “ _This poltergeist is ‘attached’ to Amelia and protecting her_.” Josten gave a slight nod. “ _It’s her brother, right? She keeps mentioning her brother’s name_.”

“ _I believe so, which means that there’s a blood bond between them and makes it even more powerful_.” Josten sighed before he had another sip of tea.

“ _How do you know all of this_?” Andrew asked, then did some sighing of his own when Josten gave him a razor-sharp smile lacking in warmth.

“ _Ah-ah, I gave you quite the answer right there, so now it’s my turn_.” Josten went to lay his left palm on the table but stopped the motion just short for some reason and wrapped his hand around the paper cup again. “ _You don’t seem to know anything about ghosts, yet something’s different about you this past week_.” He studied Andrew for several seconds, his gaze intent, then let out a slight huff. “ _You’re wearing a ward, who gave it to you and why_?”

Technically that was two questions, but Josten had been rather loquacious for once in regards to explaining about poltergeists so Andrew would let it go that time. Right then, he was curious as to how the young man had picked up on the necklace and why he was so interested in it… and hated how all his questions for Josten kept piling up. “ _A friend gave it to me_.” When Josten regarded him with open disdain for that evasive answer, Andrew huffed. “ _You may have heard of Renee Walker, Reynolds’ girlfriend who’s off being a do-gooder right now. For some reason she felt that I needed a bit of faith and gave me the thing. I’d no idea that it’s a ward or whatever_.” He moved slowly not only because of his ribs but to keep from spooking Neil. “ _What a coincidence that it’s kept something from slamming into me, ever since I put it on, hmm? My turn again. You have a poltergeist of your own or what_?”

He kept his attention focused on Neil’s too-handsome face and noticed when the figurative walls went up, when those fake brown eyes hardened (was that a faint line of blue at the center?), the slight twitch to the sharp jawline – and how the table jumped a little.

“ _Not… not a poltergeist_ ,” Neil admitted as if the words were forced out of him and the table thumped again. “ _But someone who watches over me_.”

The admission surprised Andrew, who hadn’t thought that Neil would tell him the truth… but he supposed there wasn’t much else he could do, considering what had happened in the past couple of weeks. “ _What, you have your own Casper the not-so-friendly ghost keeping you company? Who knocks people around when they get too close to you_?” That was… that was insane, yet Andrew felt an odd sort of envy at the thought – what would his life had been like if he had something like that watching over him? What difference would it have made with Drake and the others? He felt a surge of bitterness for a couple of seconds before he forced the thought away, well aware that there was no changing the past.

Nei- _Josten_ , dammit, gave a slight shrug as he once more took to staring at the cup of tea held between his hands, which he carefully removed the lid from and set aside but didn’t sip from right away. “ _Says the man who came to a coffee shop armed with knives_.” Josten glanced up again, and that time the darkness in his eyes wasn’t from the ugly contacts. “ _Your armbands are showing, and something tells me that they’re not a fashion statement, not with all the times I’ve caught you reaching for something on your forearms_.” When Andrew went still at being called out like that, a hint of a smile hovered on Josten’s lips. “ _My choice of protection is just a bit more… unconventional and easier to get past metal detectors_.”

So the man was observant, that was… yet another annoying thing to note down. There was also the fact that Josten could easily recognize armbands (and weapons hidden inside them) and needed a damn ghost to look after his ass, which only made him that much more intriguing. “ _And why would you need a ghost to look after you_?”

The sharp not-smile made its return. “ _You already asked a question_ ,” Josten reminded him.

“ _So I did_.” Rare anger sparked inside of Andrew at being blocked like that and made him tap his fingers against the table while Josten sipped his black tea. “Well?”

Josten inclined his head a little and set the tea aside, then took to playing with the ends of his sleeves; he tugged them further over his fingers until they were all but hidden. “ _What do you plan to do now that you know about the poltergeist_?”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he regretted not getting a second cup of mocha since it would help with the coldness surrounding the table. “ _Deal with it somehow_.” He couldn’t risk it harming Bee again, or his brother and cousin let alone any of the children who came to Palmetto Services. “ _It’s too much of a danger_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Josten agreed as his gaze grew unfocused for a couple of seconds. “ _As long as Amelia is there, it will lash out at anything it considers a threat to her, which will be most adults_.” Then he stared at Andrew once more. “ _And me? What about me_?”

Was someone worried about their own private Casper? “ _You seem to know an awful lot about this ghost stuff_ ,” Andrew countered as he resisted the urge to tug on the cross which hung around his neck (as he mentally cursed out Renee for choosing such a bad time to go on sabbatical). “ _Do you know how to get rid of them_?”

“ _And if I do_?” Josten hedged, his expression perfectly blank.

What a shame, it seemed that despite their little game of ‘truth for truth’, Josten didn’t have much trust in Andrew. “ _You help me get rid of thing and keep your little Casper on a tighter leash, and I won’t say anything about your invisible friend_.”

“ _You won’t say anything about me being involved in this **or** do anything about my ‘invisible friend’_ ,” Josten countered as his eyes narrowed and the table ‘thumped’ again while there was a blast of cold air.

Andrew almost made a comment about Josten obviously not being too concerned about the kids if he was wasting time bartering like that… but he picked up on the tension in the young man’s shoulders and recalled how he’d been doing something in the room yesterday to fend off the poltergeist until Andrew had disrupted his concentration. Which implied that his concern was keeping Casper around as much as possible, along with the fact that he was involved in ghosts.

The first Andrew didn’t understand (well, other than people might not appreciate knowing that bad shit happened to them because of Josten’s ‘invisible friend’), but he supposed no one wanted to be known as the freak who saw dead people, or whatever. “ _Fine, it’s a deal_ ,” he agreed.

He wouldn’t say anything… but Renee would be back soon enough, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t need to bring up Casper, not if she knew enough to give him the cross.

Josten regarded him with open suspicion for several seconds before he nodded. “ _I’m sure you’ll honor your word_.” That was _just_ a little amount of sarcasm there.

“ _Such a lack of trust_ ,” Andrew chided, then clicked his tongue. “ _You’re the one who has Casper there try to shove a person’s ribs through their spine if they get too close yet I’m untrustworthy_?”

“ _I told you that I was fine and you didn’t listen to me_ ,” Josten argued. “ _But all right, let’s shake on it, okay_?” he offered as he held out his right hand after he tugged his sleeve back enough to expose his fingers.

Andrew wasn’t big on touching people, but if it helped to speed things along…. He held out his hand and swore he felt some sort of tingle, almost like a pleasant pulse of warmth, when their skin touched; Josten’s fingers twitched against his and those false brown eyes grew vacant once again, the pupils shrunk to pinpoints (it _was_ a ring of pale blue) before he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and pulled his hand free.

“All good now?” Andrew asked in English as Josten hastily tugged the sleeve back over his fingers.

“Yes.” The British accent was back in Josten’s voice as he wrapped his arms around his chest, as the cold grew stronger for a moment. “I think that’s enough for today.” The American accent slowly crept back into his voice, which made Andrew wonder which one was real since they both sounded authentic.

“Wait.” Andrew stood up but didn’t reach for Josten, mindful of what had happened the last time he’d done such a thing (even if he wore the cross). “ _What about the poltergeist_?”

“I need to prepare a few things, it’s going to take a little time,” Josten said as he pushed away from the table without touching anything. He gave Andrew a curt nod as he grabbed his coat before he turned away, the cold leaving with him.

 Andrew watched as some woman busy talking on her phone got pushed out of his way toward the door, which appeared to open right before he touched it, and couldn’t help but wonder just _why_ one Neil Josten had such an attentive and over-protective ghost watching over him. Was it a deceased family member? The thought made him scoff, but perhaps. Or a childhood friend? A lover, perhaps? Josten certainly was attractive as hell, and Casper intent on keeping everyone away from the young man.

That possibility made Andrew frown as he stood in line for another mocha to help warm him up on his way home; was Josten haunted by a possessive, abusive lover? There’d been the swollen cheek that day and the scratch the previous week, not to mention how Josten kept to himself except for talking to Moreau.

Renee really needed to get her ass back to Columbia soon.

*******

/ _Abram? The water_./

Neil started at his mother’s voice and realized that he was standing by the stove while kettle whistled, unaffected by the shrill noise since he’d been lost in thought.

Since he’d been dwelling on the emotions and images he’d picked up from touching Andrew Minyard.

He turned off the flames beneath the kettle and warmed up the tea pot before he made a pot of tea to brew, grateful for the slight distraction, then grabbed an orange to peel while he waited for the beverage to steep.

/ _Are you all right?_ / Mary asked as she combed through his hair.

“Yeah.” He gave her a wan smile and shrugged. “You know how it affects me when I use my talent like that.” He paused in peeling the orange to waggle the fingers of his left hand.

/ _Empathy and psychometry are rare, even in the family_ ,/ Mary said as she hovered by his left side, startling him with that revelation. / _It was rumored that your great-great-aunt Fiona had the ability, that she knew if something was a fake or not by touch or if someone was loyal to the family._ /

“I’m sure it came in handy.” Neil could well imagine how a crime family like the Hatfords could use such a talent… then thought about what might had happened if his father had managed to sell him off, what he might be forced to do.

It… it hurt, most of the time, when he used his talents. It was bad enough to see ghosts and interact with them, but to constantly worry about touching things and come across the emotions and imprinted memories that could be left behind? It was wearying and often the emotions weren’t positive, were anxiety and fear and anger because strong emotions won out. He didn’t ‘feel’ things with everything he touched, but it was enough that when accumulated through the day, he was exhausted and felt mentally scrubbed raw if he didn’t take precautions.

That didn’t even include _people_. Neil hated when his talent kicked in (or he used it to help keep him and Mary safe) whenever he touched someone, hated the barrage of emotions and mental images that assaulted his mind, sometimes so powerful he could barely breathe.

He didn’t want to know their fears, that they were filled with anxiety or depression, that they worried about loved ones or their job or a class, that they wanted someone (or worse, _him_ for some reason). He didn’t need to know their greatest shame, their biggest trauma, the hope that got them out of bed each morning, the rejection that haunted them to that day.

Most people were consumed by one or two emotions, usually something negative (he rarely came across anyone filled with true joy or peace), were scarred by painful memories rather than positive. Most people were the type to overwhelm him if he risked more than the most casual touches, which was why Andrew….

Andrew surprised him on many levels. There had been a sense of sardonic curiosity and intelligence along with a bit of attraction, but his emotions had been much more restrained than the vast majority of people Neil encountered, hinting at strong mental walls. He’d also caught flashes of a young woman with rainbow-tipped bleached white hair (Renee Walker, he assumed, since he’d seen her when he’d touched things associated with Allison), Betsy Dobson and… and some men.

Something had been ‘off’ with the men, something that had made Neil feel disturbed and afraid.

He _really_ didn’t like using his talent like that, even if he now believed that Andrew would honor the agreements between them. Mary had taught him how to defend himself from ghosts and how to exorcise them, but she didn’t know anything about his other abilities other than to teach him to mask his reactions when using them, to keep his skin covered as much as possible and to avoid contact with people (to avoid people altogether).

Everything else he had to figure out for himself, and it wasn’t much; he could turn a person’s emotions back on them if he concentrated hard enough, a trick that had saved the two of them in a rough spot but always wiped him out afterward. Not for the first time, Neil wished that there was someone who could teach him better control, but Mary had been adamant that revealing his abilities was too dangerous, that people would just want to use him.

“What all are we going to need for the exorcism?” he asked as a means to distract himself from thinking about Andrew once the tea was poured, the mug warm and familiar in his hands. “Salt, the iron rings, maybe some sage?”

/ _Cedar oil or shavings won’t hurt_ ,/ Mary added. / _If the clever Yank wants to help, he can throw the oil about while you work_./

Neil nibbled on his lower lip while he thought about that then nodded. “Should be able to get everything at the one shop without too much of a problem.” He didn’t use sage or cedar oil that often, preferring to rely on his power and salt since the latter was both easy to find and to dispose of (sweep away or melt with water), but then again, he also didn’t deal with poltergeists that often. “He shouldn’t be able to mess that up.”

They talked a little more about what to do and when (best to do it in the evening or the weekend, when the rest of the employees weren’t around), then Neil made himself a sandwich and soup for dinner.

The rest of the weekend was quiet; he went for a run Sunday morning then spoke to Stuart (more checking that he was doing all right, more hints about a possible visit), did some laundry and cleaning and debated starting a new language to give himself something to do.

It was back to work on Monday, and Neil spent some time in the break room to find out if anything was said about the ‘excitement’ on Friday. He felt a twinge of guilt to see Matt hopping around on crutches because of his sprained ankle, grateful that the enthusiastic man kept his distance for once because of his injury.

“What exciting things did you do this weekend?” Matt asked while Neil shook his head at the box of donuts Knox offered to him.

“I’ve started to learn Persian,” he answered while he frowned at Mary, who was floating toward Matt with a smug expression on her face. He cleared his throat and when she glanced at him, gave a quick shake of his head which seemed to confuse Matt; they’d talked about how she had to honor the agreement with Andrew, not just because of the man but also to stop drawing so much attention to Neil – especially with the poltergeist in the building.

Mary frowned in return but floated away from Matt, who shivered in response to his near ‘miss’.  “Wow, you’re like a seventy-year old man living in a body of a twenty-something. Don’t you understand that the concept of a weekend is to get out and have fun? Go party or camping or whatever?”

“But I like learning new languages,” Neil argued as he threw out the teabag that had been steeping in his mug. “It’s fun.” He’d had enough of camping when he’d been on the run and didn’t like parties.

Jean, who’d come in with Knox, gave Matt a disapproving look while he spoke up. “Not everyone enjoys getting drunk all the time or being outdoors. Some of us appreciate more quiet endeavors.”

“I don’t get drunk all the time,” Matt complained, “but it’s nice to hang out with friends and do stuff.” He gave Neil an intent look as he leaned on his right crutch. “You need more friends.”

“I’m fine,” Neil said as he gave Jean a slight wave ‘goodbye’. “And I have things to do so I’ll see everyone later.”

“You’re gonna have a bunch of friends whether you like it or not, buddy!” Matt called after him as he left, which made Neil cringe.

/ _These people are fools_./

Yes, but they appeared to mean well, Neil thought as he headed to his office. Nicky gave him an enthusiastic ‘hello’ on the way and tried to talk him into going back to the break room, but Neil shook his head and repeated that he had to catch up on a few things before his first session of the day.

He unlocked his office and went to turn on his computer, where he checked his email (some general work emails, Kevin Day attempting to recruit him for the ‘Foxes’ winter bowling league which made him shudder to think of rented shoes and communal balls and… _no_ , requests for language assessments and so forth) before he and Mary went off for his session with Peter Minkin and Andrew.

They had the room to themselves for a couple of minutes before Andrew arrived, still moving stiffly because of his bruised ribs and dressed in his usual all black wardrobe, though that time with the sleeves of his black dress shirt covering the armbands. “Fancy outfit today,” Neil commented as he leaned against the one bookshelf.

“Not all of us raid the local thrift store for clothes,” Andrew drawled, which seemed to be a swipe at Neil’s comfortable light blue sweater which he’d owned for a couple of years, which he wore over a pair of broken in jeans and the gloves Allison had given him. “That and I have to be at court after this.”

“Ah.” They didn’t get a chance to talk about anything else since Abby showed up with Peter, who smiled at them and waved. Peter babbled for a couple of minutes about his weekend in the foster home, which he shared with a few other kids, a temporary place for the moment, and then Neil slowly focused him on the exercises that Andrew had come up with to make the boy provide more information on his mother and father.

It took over half of the session, but Andrew was able to coax more details out of the young boy without upsetting him too much, something to turn over to the police to help build the case which would ensure that Peter’s father faced murder charges and lost all custody of the boy. Since there weren’t any other family members in the US, it should help the state place Peter in a better foster home and even lead to a permanent adoption, considering his young age. From what Neil knew about Palmetto Services, the agency would work hard to ensure that he found a good home.

Neil watched a fondly smiling Abby lead Peter away then looked at his mother, at the woman who hadn’t even allowed death to keep her from ensuring that he stayed safe, who continued to protect him and keep him from harm as best she was able. No one else had done so much for him – the Hatfords tried, had given him a new identity and provided money, had their people to help ‘solve’ problems, but they hadn’t been there when it counted. They hadn’t taken him from that nightmare home in Baltimore, hadn’t stayed up at night to keep the ghosts at bay, hadn’t dealt with the people sent after them.

They hadn’t died for him.

“How much longer before we can deal with Slimer, hmm?”

Neil gazed at Andrew and attempted to make sense out of the question – it appeared to have been spoken in English, but…. “Uhm… Slimer?”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he stood up, the material of his black shirt straining over his broad shoulders and chest from the way he braced his hands on the surface of the table. “Slimer, the damn ghost, poltergeist, whatever. You know, from the movie.” When Neil continued to stare at him in confusion, Andrew clicked his tongue again. “Or you don’t know.”

“Apparently not, and it doesn’t produce any slime so I don’t see-“

“No, you don’t see a lot, it seems, other than dead people.”

“ _I see disembodied spirits of dead people_ ,” Neil clarified as he switched to German, nervous about Abby coming back or someone walking past and overhearing them.

For some reason, Andrew appeared tired just then as he wiped his face with his right hand. “Okay, not that movie, either.”

“Why are you talking about movies?” This wasn’t helping Neil’s confusion at all.

“ _Bee’s got a session with the damn thing on Wednesday_ ,” Andrew spit out as he ignored the question. “ _I don’t want her to be hurt again so are we dealing with it before then?_ ”

/ _Arrogant git_ ,/ Mary muttered as she began to circle around the room. / _He doesn’t tell you what to do, Abram_./

“ _No, but he’s worried about his foster mother_ ,” he told her in French, which made Andrew’s eyes narrow in what appeared to be displeasure. “ _I need time to lay a… a trap, as it is, for the poltergeist_ ,” he explained to Andrew in German. “ _Then we can deal with it after Amelia and everyone else leaves, but it won’t be before Wednesday_.” When it looked as if Andrew would complain, he motioned to the young man’s chest. “ _I can come up with something similar to what you’re wearing that should keep Betsy safe during the session_.” It wouldn’t be as strong as whatever Renee Walker had given Andrew, not when Neil only had a day or two to cobble it together, but it would hold for a few days at least.

Andrew gave him a considering look then nodded. “ _As long as Bee’s safe until that damn thing is gone. So what, you’ll pry it away from Amelia and then we’ll kill it for good_?”

“ _Exorcise it_ ,” Neil said with a slight wince. “ _Break its bonds to her and the mortal world so it can’t remain here anymore_.”

“How quaint,” Andrew drawled as he folded his arms over his chest.

“ _No, not quite, since they always put up a struggle_.” Neil wrapped his arms around his middle and shivered as he remembered some of the more violent ghosts he’d encountered over the years. “ _And Amelia will fight when she realizes that her brother is trapped in the room, so Dan will have her hands full with the girl_.”

“ _Her brother’s dead, she needs to accept it_ ,” Andrew said without remorse. “ _Seems to me there’s a lesson for you, right?_ ” He gave Neil an intent look as he spoke the words.

/ _If it weren’t for that damn ward I’d break his neck_ ,/ Mary hissed as she knocked several stuffed animals to the floor in her rage.

Meanwhile, Neil graced Andrew with his father’s smile. “ _You couldn’t be more wrong, but then I wouldn’t expect someone referred to as a ‘monster’ to understand_.”

“ _Even monsters can recognize unhealthy possessiveness_.” Andrew glanced at the mess Mary had made then at Neil. “ _Keep Casper on a shorter leash and have the ward ready soon_ ,” he said before walking away.

Neil had to move to block Mary; even with the ward, she might try to throw a chair or something at the bastard. “ _He doesn’t know anything_ ,” he reminded his mother.

/ _Then it doesn’t matter if I remove his empty head from his body, does it_?/

It was going to be a long day.

He assisted Nicky with a couple of the kids he was working with when it came to language assessments, and sat in on a physical of a new kid (Li Wei, or ‘Lee’) whom he’d be helping Robin with starting in another day or two. Between that and his regular sessions, the day went by quickly, though he did manage to have lunch with Jean again.

“ _Wymack and Kevin are inspecting each of the rooms for any issues, as well has having someone come to look into the heating and cooling system_ ,” Jean informed him as he unwrapped his sandwich. “ _It’ll take some time considering the size of the building_.”

“ _I need to set up a room on Thursday to trap the poltergeist_ ,” Neil said before he had a bite to eat. “ _Do you know where they’re planning to start?_ ” He could find out Dan’s schedule during their sessions together – that or have Mary eavesdrop. But if Jean could find out the other information for him it would be better, since she didn’t like being away from him too much, and it made him nervous as well.

Jean appeared thoughtful as he ate his pasta dish. “ _I can ask Jeremy, since he works with Kevin_.”

Neil didn’t think he needed to ask Jean to be careful how he asked, not when Jean had kept Riko’s existence quiet for so long. “ _Thank you_.”

“ _It’s nothing_ ,” Jean said with an elegant shrug. “ _The sooner the thing is gone, the better_.” He gave Neil an appraising look while they both ate for several seconds. “ _They say that Minyard showed up while the child had her temper tantrum.”_ He glanced across the break room to where Andrew sat with his brother and Katelyn, a cold expression on his face whenever he gazed back at Neil and Jean. “ _Does he know? He is friends with Renee, after all_.”

“ _He does now, and will be helping me out_.” At Jean’s incredulous look, Neil shrugged and ignored his mother’s muttered remark about his… his friend not even believing that Andrew could be of help. “ _Renee gave him some sort of ward that blocks ghosts from him_.”

Jean’s expression turned thoughtful at that, perhaps he was contemplating why the woman hadn’t given him one to fend off Riko (why hadn’t she?), but before anything else could be said, Kevin came over to the table with a determined look on his face. “Josten, why won’t you answer me about the bowling league?”

“Because I figured you’d get the hint when I didn’t reply?”

Kevin glared at that response and folded his arms over his chest while Jean sniggered. “We need another player on the team.”

“It’s not going to be me,” Neil assured him while Mary pressed against his back in a protective manner.

“And why not? Sports is a bonding experience and the exercise will do you some good.” Kevin gave him a disapproving look, a slight sneer to his lips as he eyed Neil’s arms. “I can teach you how to play.”

/ _Not if he ends up with a bowling ball to the head_ ,/ Mary murmured in Neil’s left ear.

Before Neil could comment that he wasn’t one for ‘bonding’, Andrew threw what looked to be a rolled up, empty snack bag at the tall man’s head. “Back off, Kevin, he said ‘no’.” There was an edge to Andrew’s deep voice that made Kevin take a hasty step and hold up his hands after spinning around with a scowl on his face. “Leave him alone and go bother Seth.”

“But Seth doesn’t give a shit and will just throw gutter balls for the hell of it,” Kevin complained as he picked up the thrown trash and made to toss it back at Andrew before he seemed to think better of it.

“Offer to buy him a drink or two if he does well,” Katelyn suggested, which made Kevin leave the room after a moment’s consideration; she gave Neil a wink before she resumed eating her own sandwich, which left him gazing at Andrew, who stared back for a couple of seconds before clicking his tongue and opening another bag of chips while Aaron resumed asking him about how the court case went.

Neil focused on his lunch after a couple of seconds, confused about the usually annoying man helping him out like that, before Jean distracted him by talking about the new art project he’d start the class on that day.

*******

As soon as Abby took Peter away, Andrew crossed his arms over his chest (which hurt a little less that day) and gazed over at Neil. “Well?”

The walking fashion disaster sighed and reached into the bag he’d brought with him that day to pull out a wrapped bundle, which he leaned forward to set down on the table. “Here, it should work for a few days, maybe a week before needing a recharge.”

“What, can’t you do any better than that?” Andrew asked as he leaned forward, his ribs protesting with a faint twinge, to pull the bundle closer; it was a scrap of cloth, maybe an old towel, wrapped around what turned out to be a necklace composed of pale lavender beads (somehow he doubted they were amethyst) with a large center stone of some sort of heavy, opaque, reddish stone. It was all nice and new age-ish, and like the cross around his neck, felt warm to the touch. “What is it?”

“Staurolite and spirit quartz,” Neil said with a bit of heat to his voice. “And if you want it to work better, you need to give me little more than a day to make the bloody thing, you bastard.” He glared at Andrew while an empty chair skittered across the floor.

Hmm, Josten took the whole ‘I see dead people’ thing seriously, didn’t he? “Long as it works until Slimer is gone.”

Neil gazed at him for several seconds then rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “It… yes, it’ll work,” he said in a quiet voice. “Just make sure she wears it the next couple of days, and then stick around tomorrow after work to help me set up the room.”

“Why?” Andrew was supposed to go out for drinks with Kevin and Aaron.

“In case anyone comes around, you can act as a distraction while I finish painting the wards in the room.”

“Won’t someone notice if you do that?” Andrew asked, curious despite himself.

“I’ll use a glue mixture,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “Once it dries, no one will be able to see them on the walls.”

That was surprisingly clever, and it showed that Neil truly did put a lot of thought into the whole thing, that he knew what he was doing. “Where did you get the necklace?” Andrew asked as he picked it up, mindful to rewrap it.

Neil gave a slight shrug as he stepped away; he was once more dressed in an overlarge sweater (a pale grey and white one that day), jeans and the same fingerless gloves he’d been wearing lately for some reason. “There’s a new age store downtown that sells a lot of beads, herbs and oils which come in handy.” He nodded to Andrew before he headed to the door. “Best get that to Betsy,” was all he said before he left.

Andrew had some time before his next session, so he shoved the necklace into his back pocket and headed to Bee’s office; she smiled when she saw him and motioned to the chair in front of her desk. He set the necklace in his lap and watched her finish typing something, either an email or notes for one of her cases.

There were only faint bruises on her face but she still had band-aids on her hand covering the stitches which should come out in another couple of days; she noticed his attention and shook her head. “Aaron said that everything is healing well.”

“Aaron’s a quack.”

That made his foster mother laugh as she pushed her glasses further up her nose. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“I’ll tell him that myself,” Andrew insisted as he placed the bundle on the desk. “Here, I want you to wear this.”

Bee arched an eyebrow at the demand before she reached for the ‘present’. “You’re a little old to make me a macaroni necklace, unless it’s from Peter? How’s he doing, by the way?”

“Sarah called me yesterday and believes they’ve found his mother’s body, they’ll know in a few days when they get the results back,” Andrew told her. “He’ll probably need some therapy since he had a very close relationship with her and I suspect will feel misplaced guilt that he survived and she didn’t.” He’d seen it enough with the kids he’d helped over the years.

“Of course, I can work with him or arrange someone else who might be a bit better for the boy, especially if they’re close to finding a home for him.” She paused as if pondering the matter before she opened the cloth wrapped around the necklace then gave it a considering look. “Hmm, it’s pretty if a bit unusual. Any special reason why?”

“Let’s just say it’s a little something to bring you good luck this week so make sure to wear it the next few days, okay?”

Bee continued to gaze at him for several seconds before she nodded. “Well, you’re lucky that it doesn’t clash with any of my wardrobe,” she said in a manner reminiscent of Nicky.

“Yes, because know-it-all earth goddess is such a desirable look,” Andrew drawled as he reached over to tug on the sleeve of her maroon and gold-colored tunic, which she wore over a flowing black skirt embellished with golden beads.

“We can’t all be the cool emo kid all grown up like you,” she teased back as she pulled her arm free so she could put on the necklace. “I still have a picture of you wearing eyeliner, don’t make me break it out, Andrew!”

He winced at that reminder and sat back (slowly) in the seat. “And I think I’ve a video of you and Abby polishing off that box of wine the one night,” he countered.

The two of them stared at each other until Bee gave a slight nod. “Touché, my young protégé. I see I raised you well.”

He gave a slight huff at that and tapped his right fingers against the wooden arm of the chair. “I still think Aaron and I were the basis for some study you submitted to a psychiatrist journal.”

Bee’s smile took on a wicked edge as she cupped her hand over the necklace. “I’ll never tell. That way I don’t have to share any royalties with you.”

That time he gave her the finger, which prompted a laugh from his foster mother; he drank in the sight of her with her head thrown back and the laugh lines around her generous mouth and pale brown eyes, how happy she always looked at moments like that. Nothing was allowed to harm the woman who’d finally given him a safe home, who’d been the first one to _listen_ to him, to _believe_ him, not even some damn poltergeist.

They talked a little more about work after that before he left so she could resume typing and he went to grab a cup of coffee before he went to help Robin prepare for her new case. Then he was busy with his own kids, with wrapping up things for Isabel (he’d gone to the county court yesterday for a couple of hours to work with Laila on prepping things for the upcoming court case) and Toni, then Ryan after lunch (spent with Kevin and Nicky while he watched Neil and Moreau sit huddled together again while mumbling in French to each other while an obviously lovesick Knox gazed on).

He could barely concentrate during his session with Ryan and rushed out of the room once it was finished to make sure that Bee was safe back in her own office, nearly knocking Wymack down in the hallway in his haste; he ignored the old man’s shouts and the twinge in his ribs from moving so fast, only to find Bee’s office empty.

She was in the break room with Abby and Dan, happily chatting away with the two women and gave him a curious look when he almost skidded to a halt once through the door. “Andrew? Are you that desperate for caffeine? It might be time to cut back.”

Amusing. He made a point of getting a glass of water after that while he eyed her up and down to check that she was fine. “No fireworks today?” he asked after he had a few sips of water.

Dan scoffed even as she rubbed the back of her neck. “No, fortunately. Amelia’s still not talking much, but she didn’t throw anything around today. Let’s hope she finishes out the week without a tantrum since Matt and I have dinner plans on Saturday and I don’t want to go out with a black eye.”

“Don’t jinx yourself,” Abby warned, and as the three women started talking again, Andrew put the glass in the sink and went off for a cigarette since he was assured that Bee was all right.

He spent the afternoon on Thursday doing paperwork after letting Aaron and Kevin know he’d be a little late meeting them at the bar, and paid attention to the cars leaving the parking lot one by one. Wymack stopped by on his way out the door, a slight frown on his rough face as he leaned against the door jam. “Overtime? You?”

“Catching up from being off the one day,” Andrew said, which was partially true.

“Well, make sure the side door is locked and the alarm is on, everything else is set for the night,” the man told him. “And don’t be here too late, I don’t pay you enough.”

“Damn right,” Andrew muttered as he finished the recommendation for Isabel’s cousin to foster (with the intent of eventual adoption) the girl; he’d already completed one for Child Services, but Laila wanted another one for the judge on the case.

About five minutes after Wymack left, Neil appeared in the doorway. “Everyone’s gone now.”

“You sure?” Andrew asked even as he began to shut down his computer.

“Yes, we’re the only ones in the building.”

Andrew almost made a snide comment about him being certain, but the papers on the edge of his desk fluttered to the floor while the air grew cold around him. “Cute. What did I say about keeping Casper on a leash?”

“Keep an eye out so no one else comes in,” Neil reminded him. “We’ll be busy with the wards.” He didn’t say anything else, just turned around and headed to the room which Dan was using for her sessions with Amelia.

Andrew gave his departing back a flat look then bent over (he still owed Casper for the damn bruised ribs) to pick up the papers before he grabbed his coat and messenger bag, then locked his office up for the night.

Neil was busy working the ‘wards’, his coat and messenger bag discarded on the small table in the middle of the room while he stood on a couple of stacked chairs so he could paint something (some sort of glue mixture he’d said) with a small brush on the wall above the doorway. “You’re going to break something when you fall,” Andrew warned as he leaned against the door jam and looked up, mindful of how cold the room had become.

“No, I’m not,” Neil insisted, and Andrew realized that along with the cold, that Neil was perfectly balanced on the precariously stacked chairs somehow… no, that some invisible force was holding him upright.

Huh, Casper was useful.

Neil’s white teeth bit into his full bottom lip as he painted what looked to be an intricate design above the doorway; Andrew slipped into the room so he could better see what the quiet man was doing, and noticed that Neil was still wearing the fingerless gloves despite what could possibly be messy work. Once the design was finished, Neil hopped to the floor and the chairs moved ‘themselves’ over to the next wall so he could paint a new design on it.

Andrew eyed the freshly painted ward, which he could barely see since it was little more than glistening lines. “What will these do?”

Neil was quiet (and kept doing the lip biting thing, which Andrew _wasn’t_ staring at, dammit) for a few seconds as the brush twirled against the wall in an intricate pattern. “They’ll allow the poltergeist in the room and have a bit of a calming effect on it, and won’t let it leave. Hopefully they’ll keep it from causing too much damage once Amelia leaves, that and she’ll be enough of a distraction, but we’ll be in trouble if people come into the room for some reason afterward.”

“It’s one of the last sessions of the day, and hopefully they’ll be too busy trying to calm Amelia down to notice anything. “

“Hopefully.” Neil frowned and began to worry his full bottom lip with his teeth again, which made Andrew walk out of the room when he felt the impulse to yank the fool to the floor and grip his face between his hands to make him stop doing _that_.

He needed… he needed twenty minutes in the back room with Roland or a night out of town, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon with his ribs, was it? He refused to let his guard down when he wasn’t 100%, so another couple of weeks, at least.

It took Neil almost half an hour to finish the wards, at which point Andrew all but threw him out of the building once the lights were turned off and the alarm turned on. Neil gave him a curious look on the way to his piece of shit car, but Andrew didn’t care, not when he could at least have a few drinks to take off the edge before going to bed.

He refused to think about Neil going home to some apartment with a damn _ghost_ of all things, a damn possessive, abusive ghost (the swelling had finally gone down on Neil’s left cheek).

Ghosts were supposed to be stuck in some rotting old house or building, not following people around and cutting them off from the world. Not making kids out to be mentally unbalanced terrors and ruining their lives.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Aaron asked after Andrew had his second shot of whiskey. “You’ve barely said two words to us, which isn’t much even for you.”

Andrew gave his brother the finger while Kevin finally tore his attention away from the television displaying the sports channel. “Hey, are you going to be up for the Halloween party this year?”

That’s right, Halloween wasn’t that far off, something Andrew had forgotten in all the ‘excitement’. “Yes.”

“Great!” Kevin appeared appeased at the thought of a night of drinking and pulled out his phone to text someone. “I still have to get a costume, haven’t had much time lately between work and helping Dad out with the local lacrosse team.”

Someone needed to get a life. “You like yelling at kids too much,” Andrew told him, which made Aaron snicker in agreement.

“No, I don’t!” Kevin’s expression took on a chagrined air as he set his phone aside. “Dad steps in if I get too aggressive, but it’s fine! The kids have a lot of energy.”

Whatever that meant.

Aaron gave a gentle nudge to Andrew’s left knee. “What are you wearing to the party? Katelyn and I are going as Morticia and Gomez, and you know Nicky and Eric will be something over the top.”

“A ghost,” Andrew said with the slight twitch of his lips.

He received a confused look for that before Aaron shrugged. “Whatever, should be an easy costume.” His twin sneered at Kevin, who was flagging down their server. “Someone’s just gonna get the same black robe again, as always.”

“It’s _tradition_ ,” Kevin insisted with a scowl.

“It’s being a loser,” Aaron shot back. “An unimaginative loser.”

“Right, and who picked out your costume, huh?”

Andrew sat there while the two bickered for the rest of the night, content to nurse his whiskeys for the next hour or so until it was time to give Aaron a ride home while Kevin took an Uber back to his place.

He was woken up with a nightmare a couple of hours before his alarm went off, one where he was back in Cass’ house in California, where Drake came into his room with that awful smile on his detested face while calling out ‘AJ’ and-

-and Andrew sat up in his bed, skin damp with sweat and chest heaving despite the ache from his ribs, and _hated_ how the memories never went away, never faded with time. Hated how he could still feel the bastard’s hands on his skin, weight against his back and breath against his nape. It had happened a dozen years ago, but his dreams brought it back to the surface (to the present).

A shower took care of the sweat, but he needed a cigarette and a shot of whiskey before he could lay back down in his bed and get a little more sleep before officially starting the day.

At least it was Friday, and he got to kill a ghost.

Oh, wait, ‘exorcise a poltergeist’.

Andrew preferred his interpretation better.

He stopped for donuts before going into work, and kept a few for himself before dropping them off in the break room; a hungover Kevin started to complain before he noticed the apple fritters then shut up as he grabbed one, which made Matt smirk as he snagged the other one. Aaron gave him a grateful smile (as did Katelyn, which Andrew ignored) as he grabbed a couple of frosted donuts for them both, while Nicky made a fuss over the custard-filled donuts.

One person who wasn’t interested in the pastries was Neil, of course, who stood off to the side with a mug of tea held between his fabric covered hands; he had a dark grey sweater with thumbhole sleeves on that day, a huge one with a thick cowl that covered most of his neck and shoulders and almost fell to his knees.

Reynolds snatched up a croissant before she went over to Neil, a determined expression on her face. “Seriously, you have to come shopping with me one day,” she told the walking fashion disaster. “You look like some sort of refugee from a monastery.”

Andrew made a faint snort at that as he went for a cup of coffee to have with his donuts.

Neil frowned and hugged the mug closer to his chest as if it was a shield of sorts. “I’m not religious.”

As if that was any sort of answer.

“I’d hope not, because at least there’d be a reason for you looking like _this_ ,” Reynolds grimaced as she motioned at him. “I’ve a few hours free on Sunday, you’re going to-“

“ _No_ ,” Neil said with a hint of heat. “Thank you, but I don’t like shopping with the crowds and everything.”

Reynolds appeared stunned at being told off in such a forceful manner while everyone in the break room grew quiet while they watched the exchange. “Fine, you can come to my office during lunch one day and we’ll go online.” When Neil opened his mouth to object, she gave him a stern look. “We can’t have you looking like such a mess, especially if you’re going to court!”

Neil bought himself some time by raising the mug to his lips (and mumbled something in French, no doubt to make Casper behave itself) then sipped his tea before he sighed. “Half an hour.”

“Deal, ragamuffin,” Reynolds said with a pleased grin on her bright red lips. “Today at-“

“Next week,” Neil argued. “I’ve plans already for today.”

“Fine.” Reynolds didn’t sound happy to have her ‘fun’ delayed, but she’d mostly gotten her way. “I suppose it’ll give me time to bookmark some ideas.”

“Yay,” Neil said in a deadpan manner before he walked away.

Andrew found out what those ‘plans’ were after their session with Peter, when Neil informed him that he’d be stopping by his office for lunch. “We need to go over what to do this afternoon.”

“And if I had plans?” Andrew asked as he put his notebook away in his messenger bag.

“You want to make the problem go away?” Neil asked as he eyed the door as if nervous about someone coming in.

It looked as if he was ordering in for lunch that day. “It better be dealt with today,” he warned Neil, and received a distracted nod in return before the young man left.

Nicky was disappointed that Andrew wasn’t joining him and Aaron for lunch (probably because of him being unable to go out with them last night) and went on about the dinner he and Erik were hosting on Saturday (Andrew only was going over because Bee would be there and the free food). It was enough that Andrew was relieved to retreat to his office with his take-out (cheese ravioli and garlic bread), and didn’t have to wait long for Neil to arrive with his usual sandwich and fruit.

A small paper bag bearing a sun and moon logo was set down on Andrew’s desk. “ _There’s a bottle of cedar oil in there_ ,” Neil said in German before he reached into his lunch bag for his meal. “ _Use it to sprinkle around the room and especially where I’m throwing salt as it’ll help with the poltergeist_.”

Andrew eyed the bag for a moment before he resumed eating his lunch. “ _Slimer’s part moth_?” he asked after a minute.

Neil sighed as if exasperated for some reason while he unwrapped his sandwich. “ _Cedar oil helps purify, so things like poltergeists don’t like it_.”

“ _And what about Casper, eh? How would he react if I threw it toward him, eh_?”

Andrew watched closely for a reaction, and other than a flare of anger in Neil’s fake eyes and a clenching of his jaw (as well as a couple of books knocked off a shelf), the younger man didn’t do anything for a few seconds beside take a bite of what looked to be a chicken and cheese sandwich. “ _The more negative the spirit, the more impact it’ll have on it_ ,” was all he said.

He hadn’t corrected Andrew on Casper being a ‘he’, which supported the theory of the ghost being an ex-boyfriend.

“ _You’ll be throwing salt? That’s how you get rid of a ghost, using condiments against them_?”

Neil muttered in what sounded to be French for a couple of seconds before he rubbed his forehead; Andrew caught the sight of thick, greyish rings on his fingers, something he hadn’t seen before. “ _Salt is another purifying agent, you imbecile_ ,” Neil said as he glared at his sandwich. “ _It hurts and weakens them, which makes it easier for me to use my talent to break their bonds with the material world_.”

It sounded too simple, which Andrew didn’t trust. “ _So we’ll be throwing stuff to weaken and distract it while you do your_ mumbo jumbo?”

“ _Basically_ ,” Neil agreed after a couple of bites of his sandwich. “ _All you have to do is fling the oil about and make sure no one distracts me_.”

“ _And how will I know when it’s gone_?”

“ _When stuff stops flying through the air_.” Neil gave him a level look for a couple of seconds before sighing. “ _It’s going to put up one hell of a fight so even someone like you will know it’s there_.”

‘Someone like you’, how nice. “ _You’ve done this before_.” This was more than Josten having a Casper of his own. “ _You run your own little ghostbusting business or what? ‘Who you gonna call? Neil Josten and Casper’_.”

Neil gazed at him with a confused look for several seconds before he sighed and shook his head. “ _Just throw the damn oil_ ,” he repeated in a weary voice.

“ _That’s not an answer_ ,” Andrew pointed out as he speared a ravioli.

“ _Because you talk nonsense_ ,” Neil snapped. When Andrew continued to stare at him while eating, he huffed and shook his head. “ _It’s not a business, but yes, I’ve handled ghosts in the past, enough to know what I’m doing_.”

“ _Why_?” Why bother and not deal with the one clinging to him?

There was more muttering in French then Neil seemed to consider something while he finished his sandwich, to the point that Andrew didn’t think he’d get an answer. “ _Because… because there’s something about being able to **see** ghosts that draws their attention_ ,” Neil explained in a quiet voice. “ _So someone like me learns to deal with them, to make them go away, to be safe_.”

“ _Then why haven’t you gotten rid of Casper yet_?” There was a blast of cold air and another few books knocked off the shelf for asking that question.

That question earned Andrew a chilling smile. “ _I think you’ve had enough answers, shouldn’t you be giving me a few now_?”

Dammit, Andrew had been hoping that Neil would feel like talking in the name of cooperation, and should have known the bastard would be keeping a tally. “ _Then ask something_ ,” he said as he grabbed a slice of garlic bread.

“Fine.” Neil frowned as he peeled an orange. “ _Why do you wear knives? Uhm, not here but the other day_.”

That reminded Andrew about having to ask how Neil had recognized his armbands and spotted the knives so easily, but it would have to wait, apparently. “ _Because I don’t believe in being defenseless, and only leave them off for work because of Wymack’s silly rules and to not frighten the children_.” That technically was an answer, though Neil could always ask _why_ Andrew didn’t want to be defenseless.

Yet there was an understanding light in Neil’s fake eyes ( _another_ question to be asked, one of many) as he nodded, seemingly appeased for the moment, and paused to have a slice of orange. “ _Why are you doing this?”_ He motioned to the office around them. “ _You seem like a very intelligent person and never forget anything that I tell you during our sessions, so you could be doing a lot of other things, could be a lawyer or… you could be doing something else_.”

“ _Because I want to be here for these kids_ ,” Andrew admitted through clenched teeth as he tore apart the garlic bread, displeased at how well Neil seemed to know him, to pick up on the ‘little’ things.

“ _Yeah, but you could still do that as a lawyer and make more money_ ,” Neil argued, his expression earnest. “ _Or be a psychiatrist like Betsy_.”

“ _Lawyers come in too late_ ,” Andrew said as he fought not to rub his fingers along his armbands and the scars they hid. “ _Same with the psychiatrists, too. Us case workers are usually the first line of defense, we see the kids and make the calls, we decide where they go and what help they get. I want to make sure the kids receive the care they deserve_.” He couldn’t be there for all of them, couldn’t fix the entire system… but he could ensure that _his_ kids didn’t fall through the cracks, didn’t get sent to the wrong people, didn’t try to speak up and were ignored.

“Oh.” Neil nibbled on his bottom lip for a couple of seconds before he resumed eating his orange, and it was a quiet lunch after that, with no more knocked over books or blasts of cold air.

Neil left before the end of their lunch break, which allowed Andrew some time to look up salt and cedar oil, and sure enough, cleansing and purifying properties. Nice to know the guy was right about that. Then it was back to work, with Andrew conscious of the clock ticking down to Dan’s appointment with Amelia.

He ended his last session of the day and took to smoking outside near the room where Dan and the girl were holed up, and suffered with listening to Wymack prattle on about checking light fixtures and plugs and other boring shit. “So you and Josten getting along better now?”

Andrew gave him a warning look as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette with the toe of his left foot.

“Because you two seem to be hanging out lately,” Wymack said as he flicked ash off to the side, his gaze intent for some reason. “It’s about time you realized that he’s not a problem.”

“You have no idea,” Andrew muttered as he tugged the collar of his coat tighter around his neck.

“Right, sure I don’t,” Wymack said in a condescending manner. “One day you’re going to thank me for hiring him, you damn midget.”

In regards to that preposterous remark, Andrew gave the delusional man the middle finger and walked away; it was almost time for Dan’s session to be over.

He didn’t see Neil anywhere, but when he came to the end of the hallway which intersected with the one with the room they’d warded the night before, there was a blast of cold air right after the cross around his neck grew hot.

Casper was around; he wondered just how far away from Neil the thing could go before he heard the sound of a door open followed by Dan’s voice.

“Okay, you did good today, Amelia. How about I bring you something next week? You said you like Snickers, right?”

“Yeah.” The girl sounded guarded, as if she didn’t trust that Dan would go through with the offer. “But you don’t… wait, where’s Jace?” Panic entered her voice as Andrew felt the coldness go away. “Jace? Where are you?”

“It’s okay, sweetie, we talked about this,” Dan said in a consoling manner while Amelia kept calling out for her brother. “I’m sorry but he’s gone.”

In the distance, Andrew thought he heard the sound of something falling while Dan struggled with Amelia, the girl’s shouting growing faint as she was hauled away, other voices joining in farther down the hall as Wymack and Nicky helped to restrain the child. He peered around the corner to make sure no one was in sight before he entered the hall and went over to the door of the warded room.

The commotion down at the other end of the building kept people from realizing that there was something inside of the room throwing chairs and stuffed animals around. Andrew stared nonplussed at the activity in the room through the small window and wondered if it would be possible to get a job elsewhere.

He felt Casper’s presence before he heard Neil, which warned him that the younger man was a quiet, sneaky bastard. “Jean’s helping out, too. Right now anyone who’s left in the building are busy dealing with Amelia or a storage shelf that collapsed. I already moved my car, so he’ll tell everyone that you’re off with me as I pick up something for my apartment.”

Great, like _that_ wouldn’t raise suspicions from Aaron and Nicky – Andrew willingly helping a coworker. He clicked his tongue as he thought that it was only marginally better than explaining the whole ‘ghostbusters’ shit. “How do we do this?” he asked as he motioned at the door and the disaster behind it.

Neil teethed at his full bottom lip while he rolled his sleeves back so his hands were unencumbered by them, which fully exposed the thick rings on his fingers; his hands were fine-boned with long, slender fingers and bore a few scars on the back, one which snaked up his left forearm. “I’ll go in first,” he said as he reached into the messenger bag draped across his chest for what turned out to be a bag of salt.

Andrew reached into his coat pocket for the bottle of cedar oil and removed the lid, which he shoved back into the pocket as Casper opened the door for Neil (what was with that?); Neil threw salt into the doorway before stepping through it without hesitation.

“Go away,” Neil said, the British accent back in his voice as his hands waved through the hair, grains of salt sent flying everywhere. “You’re unwanted, unwelcome and cast out now go away!”

An awful sound like a thousand cats yowling filled the air, so loud and terrible that Andrew’s _teeth_ began to ache, let alone his head, and he waited for Wymack and the others to come running any moment. Yet Neil kept chanting and throwing salt, so Andrew entered the room and stepped off to the side so he could swing the bottle of cedar oil around, in the direction of the flying stuffed animals which knocked them out of the air.

Huh, he had to stock up on the stuff.

The table took to shuddering and hopping about in place while the bookshelves shook, and all the while Neil kept chanting. A chair flew toward him but was smacked onto the floor before it even got within two feet of the young man, and the air in the room grew frigid enough to make Andrew’s chest ache with each inhaled breath.

“Any day now, Neil,” Andrew called out when the bottle of oil was about half empty and Neil appeared to be running out of salt, which earned him a flash of a dirty look.

/ _AJ_ /

At first Andrew thought he imagined it, but then it happened again.

/ _AJ_ /

“What the fuck,” Andrew gritted out as he glanced around.

/ _AJ, stop being a bad boy_./

“What. The. Fuck.”

/ _Don’t make me punish you for being a bad boy, AJ, you know you won’t like it. Unless you want me to make you cry. Is that it, AJ? You always look so pretty then._ /

Andrew felt sick to his stomach as _that_ voice filled his head, as awful memories washed through him and made him want to curl up in a ball, to find somewhere dark to hide and-

“It’s a trick, Andrew!” Neil called out as something was thrown at Andrew – _salt_ , dammit. He wasn’t a fucking entrée that needed seasoning. “It’s trying to get in your head since it can’t physically touch you.”

/ _Speaking about bad boys, **Junior**_. _You’re going to hurt even more for this, for being so_ -/

“Fuck you,” Neil spat with true venom. “You’re unwanted, unwelcome and cast out, you fucking git, so **go away**!” He strode forward and seemed to grab onto something with his beringed hands. “ ** _I cast you out, I cast you out, I cast you out_**!”

The terrible yowling was back while he screamed the words and then it was as if a huge bubble popped, releasing a pressure Andrew hadn’t been aware of existing in the room. All of a sudden he could take a deep breath (even if the air was still too damn cold) and it was quiet (no voices in his head, no yowling).

The furniture and the stuffed animals were still, and Neil stood with his hands curled against his chest before he wavered from side to side a couple of times then crumpled to the floor.

“Really?” Andrew asked no one in particular as he capped the bottle of cedar (he was going to smell the stuff for days, he knew it) and put it back in his pocket before he went over to see what the hell was wrong with the man – only to have a chair fly into his path. “What?” he asked when another chair moved to form a barricade between him and Neil. “Are you fucking serious?”

Neil lay still on the floor, his hands reddened for some reason and bruising appearing around his eyes as he appeared asleep. While Andrew watched, the sleeves of his sweater rolled down to cover his hands as much as possible and something combed through his hair, as if Casper was fussing over the young man.

“So what, he’s passed out?” Andrew asked, only to feel stupid for trying to talk to a ghost of all things. Part of him wanted to leave, to go if the poltergeist was gone (which seemed to be the case), but Neil had gotten rid of the damn thing and for some reason he didn’t want to leave the young man behind with another ghost who didn’t seem to have the best of intentions.

While he debated on calling someone (was it breaking his word if it was to have them check on Neil? How would they get past Casper?), there was a knock on the door which made Andrew nearly trip over his own feet as he spun around in surprise to see Moreau enter the room with one of the building’s vacuums. The art instructor gave him a slight nod then dropped the vacuum when he noticed Neil on the floor. “What’s wrong?”

He was stopped by the chair barricade as well but, interestingly enough, didn’t appear surprised by inanimate objects moving on their own, how curious. “You know about the ghost thing, too?” Andrew asked (he supposed he should have realized something when Neil had said that Moreau was helping).

Moreau gave him an odd look before nodding once. “Yes,” was all he said before he focused his attention on Neil. “What’s wrong with him?”

“No clue, he appears to have gotten rid of the damn thing then passed out.”

Moreau’s frown deepened at that and he bowed his head, his posture respectful as he began to speak in French. It was Andrew’s turn to frown at that, but whatever he said made the chairs slowly pull away after a minute or two so Moreau could approach Neil.

For some reason, Andrew felt something akin to bitterness as he leaned against the wall and watched Moreau carefully reach out to give Neil a gentle shake to the left shoulder. It took a couple of seconds, but Neil let out a quiet gasp and curled into a tight (defensive) ball before he seemed to realize where he was while Moreau spoke in French the entire time.

He nodded at the Frenchman and managed to stutter out something which made Moreau rock back on his heels; it looked as if Casper pushed him up into a sitting position while Neil winced and wiggled his fingers as if to restore a sense of feeling to them.

Now that there were signs of life in the idiot…. “What the hell was that?” Andrew asked as he stepped forward. “Mind games and you passing out?”

Neil winced again as he huddled forward until he could hug his knees; he looked like shit, as if he hadn’t slept in days and barely ate, either, somehow utterly drained in a short time. “It’s a poltergeist, Andrew. I told you they’re powerful and nasty.”

Okay, so that explained the ‘mind games’ part (how much of it had Neil understood?), but what about the passing out part? “And what about you?” He motioned to Neil while Moreau glared at him.

“Again, poltergeists are powerful, especially this one.” Neil went to rub at his forehead and winced when his fingers touched his skin. “I… lost my temper and I shouldn’t have grabbed it.” He closed his eyes and shuddered as if remembering something. “It worked on exorcising it but… I shouldn’t have grabbed it,” he finished in a weak voice. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes.”

Andrew scoffed at that while Moreau shook his head. “If you like, I can give you a ride home,” the Frenchman offered. “You look… you look exhausted.”

“I’m….” Neil attempted to stand up and would have fallen on his face if it wasn’t for Casper. “Let’s see how I am after we clean up.”

Moreau said something else in French which made Neil appear grateful, then motioned for him to sit down in a chair he quickly righted. Once the stubborn idiot was off his feet again, Moreau gave Andrew a pointed look as he went to fetch the vacuum.

What a pain in the ass…. Andrew ‘helped’ to restore as much order as possible to the room (put the undamaged stuffed animals back on the shelves and bagged up the ruined ones) while Moreau straightened up the furniture and swept up all the salt, but that was only so he could keep an eye on Neil, who still looked like shit by the time the room was more or less done (it reeked of cedar, but there wasn’t much they could do about it).

“Well?” Moreau asked as he stood near Neil, who looked ready to fall asleep at any moment. “Don’t try to say that you can drive home in your condition.”

Neil sighed as he gave a slight shake of his head. “No, you’re right. I can… I can call a taxi or something, though.” He didn’t look as if he was happy about that idea.

“Let me put this away and grab our things,” Moreau told him before turning to Minyard. “I’ll lock up everything, you can go.”

Andrew almost flipped him off for that casual dismissal, but it was Friday night and he just wanted to go home, to have enough whiskey to forget about that awful voice. Yet he hesitated a moment as he stared after Neil, still huddled over on the chair, before he clicked his tongue and gave the men a two-fingered salute in ‘goodbye’.

What the hell was going on between Neil and Moreau? Why did Casper allow Moreau near Neil?

Why did it bother Andrew?

What had happened to Neil? How could he ‘touch’ a ghost? Why was touching (grabbing one) so bad?

Dammit, how come for each answer he received in regards to the enigmatic young man, five new questions cropped up?

Andrew sat at his kitchen table with the cross necklace laid out before him, a bottle rapidly depleting whiskey and the almost empty bottle of cedar oil which he opened so the aroma could fill the room. ‘Purifying’, huh? ‘Cleansing’.

He wondered if it worked for minds, if it could scrub clean all the filth and nightmares which clung to him from the years in the foster system, from all the ‘homes’ which had been one new version of hell after another, especially the one he’d tried to cling to so damn hard.

Why wouldn’t Neil exorcise Casper? Why did he let a ghost cling to him day after day, to keep (almost) everyone away?

Andrew let out a curse when he felt a faint throb in the scars which covered his left forearm and had another gulp of whiskey.

Eventually he went to bed, the whiskey only working so well as a panacea for the lingering mental wounds which slowly bled out day after day; he wasn’t surprised to hear _that_ voice in his sleep, to hear it say _that_ name again.

Obviously, he wasn’t in a good mood on Saturday, not when he was exhausted and slightly hungover and scraped raw from awful memories which never went away. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bee would be there, he’d send a text to Nicky saying that he wasn’t coming for dinner, but he forced himself to shower and dress and drive over to his cousin’s.

At least Erik took one look at him after opening the front door and murmured something about fetching a drink, so Andrew shuffled inside without saying a word. Katelyn gave him a smile in greeting then wisely kept any comments to herself, even going so far as to pull a frowning Aaron aside, while Bee gave him a worried look and pulled a chocolate bar out of her purse.

“Rough night,” she said as she handed over the chocolate, a statement rather than a question.

He grunted and unwrapped the candy, grateful for it since he hadn’t been able to eat much that day.

“Well, you may be happy to know that Nicky made some cheese enchiladas just for you, and there’s chocolate rum balls for dessert. At least you’re suffering with family for a good reason.”

“Amusing,” Andrew drawled while Bee smiled at him, and somehow… somehow it wasn’t quite so bad. He was there with the woman who’d listened to him when no one else hadn’t, was going to eat the food an obnoxious cousin had deliberately made for him because Nicky knew what Andrew liked, and talk to his brother.

He wasn’t in California anymore. He wasn’t ‘AJ’ anymore.

“Hmm, is that a new cologne? You smell nice, I like it.” Bee’s smile took on an impish quality. “Very earthy.”

“I was trying to get rid of some pests, it doesn’t seem to be working,” Andrew told her in a flat manner, which made her laugh; Erik gave a questioning look when he arrived with Andrew’s glass of whiskey, but all Bee did was shake her head to indicate a private joke.

Dinner wasn’t terrible; the enchiladas were good and the dessert even better, and there was talk about what to do for Andrew and Aaron’s birthday (Katelyn wanted to take them out to dinner and Nicky to Eden’s afterwards).

“It would be nice if you had a boyfriend,” Nicky said as they sat around the dining room table nursing their coffees. “That way we’re all paired up.” A hopeful expression came over his face. “What about Neil, eh? What were you doing with him yesterday?”

“Helping him pick up a new bookshelf,” Andrew lied. “And _no_.”

“But he’s _hot_!” Nicky whined. “He might not dress the greatest and he needs a hair cut, but even as is, he’s gorgeous! And then he starts talking in other languages?” He made a fanning motion with his right hand. “ _Hot_.” Even Katelyn nodded in agreement (much to Aaron’s apparent chagrin).

“Not interested,” Andrew said as he flicked a crumb at the annoying asshole.

“But-“

“Nicky, what did we say about respecting boundaries?” Bee cut in before Andrew had to stab his cousin.

Erik rubbed his fiancé’s back when Nicky took to pouting and Aaron changed the topic to the Halloween party; Andrew only stayed another twenty minutes before making an excuse to leave.

Nicky sent him home with plenty of leftovers, so Andrew had no intention of leaving his apartment the next day. He had a few sleeping pills for when things got really bad and debated taking one that night, and so was lost in thought when he stepped out of the elevator for the floor of his apartment.

He took a few steps down the hallway before he realized that someone was standing near his door, and almost dropped the bag of food so he could free up his right hand before he recognized the person; her hair was sporting dark roots and the rainbow ends were faded, but the cheerful smile was the same, as was the small gold cross she wore.

“I didn’t realize my apartment building was in Africa,” Andrew said as he strode forward.

“Mmm, I came back a little early,” Renee told him as she pushed away from the wall to stand up straight, the loose fabric of her multicolor skirt swaying around her legs from the motion. “I got the impression that I was needed here.”

“You’re a day too late, Christian girl,” Andrew taunted as he fished his keys out of his pocket; _of course_ she showed up right after he helped to deal with a damn poltergeist. “You missed all of the excitement.”

Renee was quiet until they were inside of the apartment then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she told him, her voice solemn and expression worried. “I think it’s just starting.”

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Renee! Sunshine girl! So good of you to join the gang at last.
> 
> Maybe there's a tiny bit less Mary hate now? Maybe? Probably not, but a little more information on why she's so overboard in being protective of Neil (I'm trying to build up on things slowly here). And why Neil lets her, as well as everything with his father. 
> 
> Hmm... anything else? Feel free to ask, here or at tumblr (@nekojitachan).
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and sticking with me.  
> *******


	4. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go! Another chapter! One where... yeah, you're going to absolutely hate Mary in this one, sorry...
> 
> But there's Renee in this one! Renee backstory! The plot moves along!
> 
> Hmmm.
> 
> Much thanks to fall-for-the-game for the beta!
> 
> Warnings? Well, MARY. And a very, very brief flashback scene of (like one line?) which references non-con (not graphic). If any questions, you can ping me on tumblr at @nekojitachan.  
> *******

*******

Andrew had to dig around in the one cabinet near the sink for the herbal tea which Renee preferred; while he searched, Renee was ‘kind’ enough to make some hot chocolate for him (he could never get it to taste as good as hers) over on the stove.

Finally spotting the damn box, he grabbed it then filled a mug with water which he placed in the microwave to heat up. “I’m surprised that Reynolds is allowing you to spend some time here when you just got back,” he said while they worked on the respective drinks.

“Oh, that.” A hint of a blush came over Renee’s cheeks as she stirred the chocolate mixture. “She doesn’t know I’m back yet.” She gave a slight shrug as she turned off the heat of the stove, a guilty expression on her face. “I dropped my bags at our house then came here, and only have a couple of hours before she’ll return from an event she’s attending.”

In other words, they didn’t have long. “Quite the risk there, isn’t it? She won’t be happy if she comes home early to find out you’re spending time with me.”

Renee’s lips pressed together as she poured some hot chocolate into the waiting mug. “If it wasn’t so important then I’d have called her as soon as I landed – I _miss_ her.” The guilt sparked into a rare anger as she set the mug down to walk over to the kitchen table and pick up the cross which Andrew had removed the day before and hadn’t replaced yet. “I asked you to wear this, so why aren’t you?”

Andrew took the mug of hot water from the microwave and placed a tea bag in it, set it in front of Renee then added a bit of whiskey and whipped cream to his hot chocolate before he sat down at the table; all the while, the spark of anger grew in Renee’s dark eyes.

“Let’s recap, shall we?” he said as he leaned back in his chair with a slight wince, which Renee caught of course. “You go away to build chicken coops or whatever the hell you do on your little do-gooder trips, ignoring the voicemails and texts I send you except to have your bitchy girlfriend show up one day with that hideous cross and tell me to take a ‘leap of faith’ and wear it. Then you show up a couple of weeks early to hand out dire warnings at my doorstep. Cut the fucking drama, Christian girl, and tell me what’s going on.” He gave her a flat look as he took a cautious sip of his drink, a slight grunt escaping at its delicious taste.

It was Renee’s turn to be quiet for a minute or so as she handled the cross with a reverent care before she pushed it across the table toward him and sat down. “I would appreciate it if you put it on – you _have_ been wearing it, haven’t you?”

“Until yesterday afternoon,” he confessed. “I told you, things should be quiet now.”

She shook her head as she got up to throw away the teabag from her drink then sat back down. “And I said that’s unlikely, so you need to keep wearing this.”

Andrew sighed and set his mug down after another sip. “You also said we don’t have much time so stop dancing around and get to the point, dammit. How did you know to send me the cross, that it would help me, and about what’s going on here?” He couldn’t come right out and talk about Neil because of his promise to the young man, but he suspected that Renee had a lot of answers he needed and just had to start _talking_.

Renee gave him another guilty look as she wrapped her hands around the mug of tea. “This is… this is something I don’t discuss with many people, can you understand that? Not even Allison knows.”

“Try me,” Andrew grunted as he put on the damn necklace. “It’s been an _interesting_ few weeks.”

“I imagine so,” Renee said with a wry grin before she took a deep breath as if to steady herself. “You know about my past, that I all but grew up on the streets and joined a gang.” She waited for him to nod. “What you don’t know is… there’s to more to it than that. I always thought my mother was an alcoholic because she was mentally unstable, that her talk of ‘seeing things’ was part of her mental illness.” Andrew found himself sitting up in his chair as his friend continued with her story, Renee’s expression taking on a bitterness as if she knew the effect that her words had on him.

“It was around when I turned thirteen that I started ‘seeing’ things, too,” she continued. “At first I thought it was from the guilt of what I was doing in the gang, what I had to do to survive, and it’s part of why I started using. Part of me was afraid that I was ending up like my mother after all, and I didn’t realize how much that was true.” She closed her eyes as her lips twisted even more with that bitterness, until she took a deep breath and seemed to push most of the emotion away. “I was seeing ghosts, Andrew, and I didn’t realize it until one night, stoned out of my mind, I ordered one of my ‘delusions’ to do something and it did it.”

“So you can see ghosts,” Andrew confirmed. “And control them.” Could Neil do the same?

“It’s more that I can interact with them, and exorcise them,” Renee clarified. “At the time, I used my ability to ask some of the ghosts to act as lookouts for me, which was very useful. I can’t hear them, though, just see them, because it takes a lot of power to be able to do both, but I managed enough with my talent to keep myself alive when the odds were against me.” For a moment, something dark flashed across her face before she had a sip of her tea.

“And then you weren’t in a gang anymore,” Andrew prompted, curious to know how she’d learned things like the cross necklace he wore.

“No, then I was arrested and went to prison, which isn’t a good place for someone with my abilities.” Renee shuddered as if remembering something unpleasant. “I can do more than see ghosts, I can also… oh, you can call it precognition but it’s more like receive an impression of the future.” She gave him a wobbly smile when he arched an eyebrow at that declaration. “Enough for me to know that I had to turn in my gang and get out of it if I wanted to live. Enough for me to know to trust certain women in prison, women who helped me with my abilities, who put me in contact with Stephanie Walker.”

“Your foster mother.” Andrew was hoping that all of this tied into what was happing at Palmetto Services soon enough. “She can see ghosts, too? Am I the only one who can’t?”

“ _No_.” Renee gave him an unamused look as she shook her head. “It’s a very rare ability, in part because people who have it often believe themselves to be insane and… well, they end up like my mother. Stephanie and the church we belong to are trying to change that, to support people like me who have been given these gifts by God.”

Andrew clicked his tongue at that bit of nonsense. “Funny, normally the church tends to burn people like you – the whole ‘thou shall not suffer a witch to live’ thing and all.”

“Not my church,” Renee said through clenched teeth. “It understands that people like me have been given these abilities for a reason, that we’re here to help people.” She gazed at Andrew as if daring him to argue, while all he did was have more hot chocolate; let her think what she wanted about her precious religion.

“That’s what I was doing these last several weeks,” she continued as she forced herself to calm down. “I wasn’t helping out some old Peace Corps friends but working with… oh, call them affiliates to our church in Morocco and Tunisia. I went there to learn how they deal with possession and what they consider evil spirits to see if I could improve my exorcism skills, and teach them what I know about warding. Since I was traveling so much, that’s why I didn’t have the chance to call you.”

“So what, you can do some ghostbusting as well as casework?” Andrew scoffed before he finished his hot chocolate. Renee and Neil were going to get along great.

“Yes,” Renee agreed in a solemn manner without batting an eye. “I help out anyone who appeals to the church for assistance, and of course there’s my friends.” When Andrew stilled at that, she gave a slight nod. “Yes, something’s happening at work, right? Allison’s told me about the weird things going on, about Betsy and Matt being injured and what happened with Dan.”

“Does she think it’s just ‘accidents’?” Andrew might not like Reynolds, but he never underestimated her intelligence.

Renee frowned as she gazed into her mug as if it held all the answers. “She’s concerned that something is happening, but she doesn’t think it’s tied to ghosts – it’s not something she _would_ think of, naturally. But she’s wondering if someone’s playing pranks and messing with the fixtures and the floor, along those lines.” When Andrew clicked his tongue again, she looked at him. “You’re not saying much,” she pointed out as she cocked her head to the side. “Which is unlike you… is it because you don’t want to, which I find doubtful since you kept reaching out to me before, or because you can’t?”

He nodded at the second question. “Keep talking, you’re doing a good job. Tell me why you gave me the ward and ask about the recent changes at work, why don’t you?”

She was quiet for a couple of seconds before she took in a deep breath. “Ah, yes, now it’s clear. I sent you the cross because from the little I can ‘see’….” She cocked her head to the side again and hummed a little. “Yes, a lot of it focuses on you and you’ll need it, will need a ward, so keep wearing it.”

“It’s not my style,” Andrew said as he held up the cross with distaste between his thumb and right forefinger.

“You’ll need it,” Renee repeated. “I don’t see that changing.”

Wasn’t that nice to know?

“As for work… before I left, I placed wards around one of the rooms because… because of Jean,” she admitted with evident guilt as if betraying a secret.

“Moreau?” Andrew tapped the fingers of his left hand on the table as it began to fall into place, the Frenchman’s connection to Neil. “He can see ghosts, too?”

“ _No_ ,” Renee said with an annoyed sigh. “It’s _rare_ , I told you! But he had a ghost which wouldn’t leave him alone,” she explained as she tucked back a strand of hair falling onto her face. “I exorcised it as best I could and placed wards at his home and work to keep it at bay should it return.” Her gaze grew vacant for a couple of seconds as she touched the small cross on her own neck. “I _thought_ I got rid of it… but that’s part of why I went to North Africa, to see if I could learn some new things, to improve my skills.”

So there was something that perfect Renee couldn’t do, how interesting. “Why not give him the cross, then?”

Renee shook her head at the question. “I thought about it, but when I touched it, I felt a strong urge to save it for you.” She smiled at Andrew before she sipped her tea. “Allison tells me that Jean has made friends with the new translator, Neil Josten.”

Andrew gave a noncommittal grunt as he got up to pour the last of the hot chocolate into his mug, along with a hefty splash of whiskey and a hell of a lot of whipped cream.

“She also says that Neil, despite ‘dressing like an utter ragamuffin’, is ‘hot as hell’, not that I have anything to worry about.” That was said with a wry grin on Renee’s part.

“He’s a liar and an idiot,” Andrew informed his friend as he ignored the ‘hot as hell’ part. “Though yes, he does dress in an atrocious manner.”

Renee’s grin grew wider as she leaned back in her chair. “Oh, so _very_ attractive, no?” She giggled when Andrew shot her a narrow look, only to grow serious a few seconds later. “And… is there a reason you don’t want to tell me that he can see ghosts, too?”

Bingo, there it was.

“Because I promised him that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but since you asked the magic question….” Andrew swiped a finger through the mountain of whipped cream and shrugged as he licked it clean. “How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, based on the little I can ‘see’,” she admitted. “And what I am seeing?” She set the mug aside as she once more reached for her cross. “It’s not good, Andrew.”

“But we dealt with the damn poltergeist yesterday,” he explained as he resisted the urge to fetch the whiskey bottle. “It’s what hurt Bee and almost attacked Dan, it was attached to one of the newer cases, Amelia Green. Neil and I got rid of it yesterday.”

“Neil can exorcise a poltergeist?” Renee appeared surprised by that, her gaze once more growing unfocused for a couple of seconds. “That’s… I don’t know anyone who can do that by themselves.”

“I helped,” Andrew reminded her; at her disbelieving look, he clicked his tongue. “I threw cedar oil around.”

Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. “That _was_ helpful, I’m certain, but Neil still did the hard work. He must be very powerful.”

“I don’t know, he passed out after grabbing the thing.” Andrew frowned as he recalled Neil’s still form on the floor and how Casper hadn’t let him near (but had allowed _Moreau_ ).

“He can touch a ghost?” Renee appeared seconds away from hyperventilating and got up to fix herself another cup of tea. “That’s… who is he?” She appeared to be talking to herself just then. “How was that possible?”

“There’s another thing to consider, Christian girl,” Andrew called out once he finished his hot chocolate and licked away the whipped cream clinging to his upper lip. “He’s got his own personal ghost tagging along all the time, it’s to blame for my sore ribs. Hope you got a spare cross or ward for yourself in case it decides that it doesn’t like you,” he explained as he gave a light press to his left side.

Spinning around fast enough to make her hair fan out (Reynolds was going to freak when she saw its terrible condition), Renee gawked at him for several heartbeats. “He can exorcise ghosts yet he allows one near him?”

“Yep.” Andrew elongated the ‘p’ sound as he stretched out his legs. “It wasn’t just the poltergeist causing problems at work, not with his buddy Casper being the possessive sort. I think it might be an ex-boyfriend or something, he said he keeps it around for protection and he doesn’t want me to talk about it.”

“But you… that’s… you don’t _do_ that,” Renee gasped as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “For a ghost to move with him like that means that he’s its focus, which never is a good thing. A strong emotion has to have been involved for it to forge such as powerful bond between them and….” Her lips pressed together as she shook her head.

“And?” Andrew asked as he got up to put his mug in the sink.

“I need to see it,” was all Renee said as she placed hers in there as well, seeming to forego another tea. “Keep the cross on, Andrew, I mean it. Don’t take it off if you can prevent it.”

“I’m fine at home.” He didn’t see why he had to keep wearing the ugly thing.

“Don’t take it off,” Renee repeated. “I don’t know how strong this… ghost is, and there’s something tying you to Neil.” She frowned and squinted at him as if searching for something.

That was not what he wanted to hear, that he was ‘tied’ to a mysterious, confounding liar with a possessive ghost and a touch phobia and a too-attractive face and- _dammit_. “What do you mean by ‘tied’?”

Renee grabbed her purse from the table and headed toward the door. “I can’t explain it other than the feeling that the two of you have a future together, a long one.”

“What _type_ of future?” Andrew called out as he stalked after her. “Renee, don’t tell me shit like that and walk away! _What type of future_? One where I’m locked up after throttling him to death?”

“Hmm, no, something more permanent than that,” Renee said with a hint of a smile as she opened his front door. “It’ll work out, I’m sure it will. I have a good feeling about it.” Her smile faltered as she took a step forward. “I mean, eventually.” Then she darted through the door and pulled it shut behind her as if fleeing from some terrible monster.

Andrew stood there with his right hand on his left armband and thought about how he now wished that Renee had kept her ass back in Africa.

*******

/ _Abram, drink your tea_./

Neil forced himself to sit up in bed from the position he’d slumped into after returning from the kitchen after fetching a pot of tea and a couple of oranges. “Okay.” He still felt tired after sleeping all of Friday evening and most of Saturday, and now his mother was fussing over him to make sure he ate and drank.

He poured tea into the mug and, while it cooled a little more, peeled one of the oranges; Mary fussed with the blankets on the bed until they covered as much of him as possible, her concern palpable. After he had a couple of slices of orange, he drank some tea while she combed icy fingers through his hair; the touch was soothing and made his head feel better.

/ _You need to eat more than that_ ,/ she chided.

“In a little bit,” he promised. “I’ll heat up some soup.” He still felt a little dizzy, a combination from expending so much energy and from ‘touching’ the ghost – Jace Green.

From having Jace’s memories pour into him – the years of abuse and neglect, the boy’s devotion to his younger sister, the horrifying night when their father had-

/ _Abram_./

Neil drew in a sharp breath as he was jolted out of those borrowed memories, those awful recollections which were almost like looking into a distorted, tarnished mirror of his own past. What made reliving Jace’s life so painful was that it cut too close to the bone, was too similar to Neil’s ( _Nathaniel’s_ ) childhood, the years in that terrible house in Baltimore. Neil ( _Nathaniel_ ) might have lived in a ‘nice’ house (a mansion) instead of poverty, might not have had a sibling (he’d had his mother)… but it had been never-ending fear and pain and abuse (mental and physical).

“I wish there was a way to make the memories go away,” he confessed to his mother before he resumed drinking the tea.

/ _You need to be more careful_ ,/ she told him as he sank back into the pillows. / _Both of your talents are very powerful_./

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I could touch him like that,” Neil argued. He supposed it had been a mix of the iron rings and intent which had caused it. “In the end, it exorcised him, though I don’t want to do it again.”

/ _No, next time you do it the right way_./ She floated closer and gave a slight tug to a lock of his hair; he needed to take a shower soon. / _You allowed yourself to be distracted because of the Yank_./

“Jace… I mean, the poltergeist was able to tap into our fears,” he tried to explain. “I had to do something quickly to keep Andrew from breaking down.” He could still remember the awful expression which had come over his coworker’s face upon hearing Jace talk about ‘AJ’.

/ _Hmm, it was a very powerful poltergeist,_ / Mary agreed. / _At least it’s gone now_./

“Yeah, hopefully things will be quiet now.” Neil just wanted to work, to translate for the kids and help out however he could, to put in his time at Palmetto Services and come home to the flat where he could read and study and be left in peace.

He finished the other orange and the tea, then forced himself to take a shower while Mary hovered outside of the tub and called out to him every other minute to make sure that he was all right. Once he was dried off and dressed in sweats and a thick sweatshirt, he went into the kitchen to make more tea and heat up a tin of soup, grateful for when he could sit down at the small table to eat it.

There were a couple of messages on his phone from Jean, checking on if he was all right, and invites from Matt and Kevin to do things that weekend. He turned the two men down before letting Jean know that he was fine and hesitated in accepting the offer to pick up his car the next day. “Jean’s asking if I want help fetching the car tomorrow.”

Mary glanced at him from where she hovered over a mug of tea. / _He’s proving useful and keeps his mouth shut_./

When she didn’t say anything other than that, Neil took it to mean that she approved of the offer and replied that if Jean was available in the evening, that would be very helpful. “You’re fine with him now?” He’d been surprised when his mother had allowed Jean to bring him home the day before.

Mary’s form shivered a little before she came over to check to see how much he’d eaten. / _You were right, he’s not interested in you._ / She gave an indelicate snort as she made his bowl shake a little, an indication that he needed to eat more. / _He’s got the one fool of a blond dancing to his tune, he does. Can only trust those sneaky French bastards so far_./ She sounded more amused than anything, so Neil didn’t try to defend his new friend.

“You mean Jeremy,” he said after a few spoonfuls of the creamy potato soup. “He is really attentive over Jean.”

Mary’s snort was louder that time as she rattled the tea kettle. / _Jeremy wants to **shag** him, Abram. It’s like I told you, it comes down to **sex** in the end, to someone getting what they want without a care for you_./ She shivered hard enough to shatter into thousands of glittering pieces and reformed next to him, the air so cold that his teeth chattered and goosebumps formed on his arms – then his muscles seized up as her fingers clenched in his hair and wrapped around the top part of his face. _/Just like those sluts who kissed you, like those people I see looking at you. Just like that **prick**./_

“Mu-uhm,” he managed to choke out as her emotions, so acrid and painful, flowed into him, as her memories flooded his mind. As he relived yet again his father laying hands on her, hurting her as he tore at her clothes, mouth harsh and fingers squeezing too hard and knee shoved between-

He tore himself away and stumbled over to the sink where he threw up the bit of food he’d eaten. While dry heaves tore through him as his mind fought against the awful memories, Mary murmured his name and stroked her fingers through his hair, the touch soothing against his sore scalp.

/ _You can’t trust them, Abram. Oh my darling boy, you can’t trust **any** of them_ ,/ she crooned while he slumped against the counter, left utterly drained once again. / _You’re too precious, too special, they’ll only use and hurt you. Never let them close, never let them touch you_./

“I… I know, mum,” he whispered, voice raspy from a sore throat and exhaustion. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on top of his folded arms as he fought the desire to slide down to the floor and lay there for the rest of the night.

/ _Come, let’s get you settled_ ,/ his mother urged as she tugged him away from the sink while the water turned on to wash it clean. He didn’t mind the cold right then because being numb was a good thing, that and he needed her support to make it to chair where he sunk down with relief.

Mary draped the blue blanket over him and brushed aside the fringe clinging to his forehead. / _I’ll be back with some tea_./

“But you-“

/ _I’ll be back_ ,/ she told him with stern tone, so Neil settled even more into the comfortable cushions rather than argue; it would require a lot of energy for his mother to manipulate the tea kettle and mugs to make tea so she didn’t do it often, but apparently she was determined to do so then.

While he waited, he did his best to blank his mind of the latest acquired images, to not think about his mother’s memories. He wished that she’d stop doing it, that she’d realize he wasn’t interested in anyone _that_ way – yes, he’d kissed a couple of girls when younger because he’d been curious about why everyone was so interested in doing it, to see if it was fun or anything.

It wasn’t, not when he could feel the girls’ emotions, could pick up on Alina liking someone else or Laurie feeling more triumphant than happy, as if she’d won some sort of prize. He hadn’t liked their emotions or the images in their minds when they thought about him.

It hadn’t been worth sating that sense of curiosity, especially when Mary found out, when she yanked on his hair and slapped his face and shoved those awful memories into his head. When she let him know what happened if one let their guard down and fell for false smiles and lies about love and soulmates and all the other garbage people spewed about marriage and dating.

He’d learned his lesson and hadn’t felt attracted to anyone, felt repulsed most of the time when he touched someone and desire washed into him. His mother had taught him well – he wouldn’t end up like her.

He wouldn’t believe the lies, wouldn’t let himself be used and hurt that way.

/ _Here_./

Mary’s voice distracted Neil from his thoughts; he opened his eyes to see a plate with a few biscuits and an orange set down on the small table next to the chair, along with a mug of tea. Moments later, his mother reappeared, though more transparent than usual. / _Eat something_./

“Yes, mum.” Neil forced himself to move and pick up a biscuit, which he nibbled on at first to ensure that his stomach was settled. Once it was gone, he had another one before he peeled the orange, his attention divided between his meal and his mother, who floated around the room as if a piece of pale, translucent fabric caught up in a gentle breeze.

He’d just finished the tea when his phone rang, reminding him that he’d left it in the kitchen. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was his uncle’s ringtone, he’d ignore it, but he forced himself upright to answer it before it went to voicemail. “Uncle Stuart?” Why was he calling so late?

“You sound like shit, kiddo,” his uncle told him.

“Uhm, long week at work and I think I caught something from one of the kids,” Neil lied with ease as he turned on the heat beneath the kettle again since he was up. In a way, it wasn’t _quite_ a lie….

“You need to take some vitamins and watch out for yourself,” Stuart chided before he lit a cigarette. “And get enough sleep.”

“I will. Is something wrong? Shouldn’t you be sleeping, too?”

“Eh, just got back from a job, you know how that leaves me. Figured I’d check up on you since we haven’t spoken for a few days.” Stuart was quiet as he exhaled. “You doing all right? Job still okay?”

“Yeah,” Neil reassured his uncle as he sat down in one of the two kitchen chairs. “I really like it, so thank you.” He watched as his mother floated into the kitchen and hoped that she didn’t start making any noise.

“You’re welcome, Abram.” There was affection in his uncle’s voice for some reason. “Are you making friends yet? Doing something other than just work?”

Neil rubbed his forehead as he wondered why his family cared so much about what he did, other than to stay out of trouble. “Uh, I went out for coffee with someone, Andrew’s his name. I work with him on a case. And I’m meeting another coworker, Jean, tomorrow.” Again, that held enough of the truth that he didn’t feel guilty at all for saying such things to his uncle.

“There you go,” Stuart said with what sounded to be pride. “See, you need to put yourself out there, kiddo, have to let people in a little. You can’t just sit at home all the time, speaking gibberish to no one.”

“Speaking ‘gibberish’ is how I earn a living,” he reminded Stuart with a good bit of exasperation.

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to spout gibberish at other people. So go out there and do it.”

Neil sighed and got up to fix the teapot since the kettle was starting to whistle. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? Go to bed, Uncle Stuart.”

“Long as you do, too. You really do sound like shit.”

“I will. Good night.”

Stuart wished him the same and hung up, and as annoying as he could be with his overbearing nature, Neil found himself smiling over his uncle’s call while he fixed two mugs of tea to take into his bedroom.

/ _Don’t listen to Stuart_ ,/ Mary ordered with a surly tone. / _He just wants you to be hurt so you give up on living here and rush back to the family._ /

Neil’s smile faltered as he leaned against the counter. “I’m sure that’s not it.”

/ _It is, Abram_ ,/ she insisted. / _It’s why they call all the time checking up on you, why they send you things. They want you to think you can’t live without them, to know how important they are. The big, powerful Hatfords,_ / she ranted as she once again shivered into pieces. / _The big, powerful Hatfords who’d lock you up as if you’re a helpless doll if wasn’t for me._ /

“I know, mum. I know.” He closed his eyes for a moment and felt _so tired_. “It’s just you and me.”

/ _Forever and ever, Abram_./ She once again stroked fingers through his hair. / _I’ll always be here for you_./

Normally such words comforted Neil, but he was so tired just then, tired and worn down and sore that all he could do was rest against the counter and look forward to curling up in bed for the night.

*******

Judging from the noise as he made his way to his office, Andrew would say that Renee had returned to work already; he headed into the break room to put away his lunch for the day (and grab some coffee) to find a good bit of the staff in there, along with a beaming Renee, a smiling Reynolds and several boxes of pastries.

He went straight for the pastries.

“Andrew! Look who’s back,” Nicky exclaimed before he could reach a box of what looked to be cream-filled donuts.

“My eyesight’s fine,” Andrew reminded his cousin while Aaron huffed in amusement, and stepped aside to put his lunch in the fridge when Nicky tried to hug him or pat him on the arm or something equally disgusting.

“Can’t you be excited for once?” his cousin whined while Robin grabbed two donuts for him and Katelyn filled a mug of coffee; Andrew accepted the paper towel-wrapped pastries with a slight nod in acknowledgement and gave Katelyn a cool look in return for the mug.

“It’s just Renee, she was coming back eventually,” he said as he set the mug down so he could fill it with enough sugar and milk.

Nicky looked as if he’d just declared that crop-tops were outlawed or something and walked away while muttering beneath his breath, which allowed Andrew to eat one of his donuts in peace; he watched Dan give Renee yet another hug while Matt, Wymack and Reynolds gazed at the two women… and noticed Moreau standing a few feet away with a pensive expression on his face.

“Isn’t it great that she’s back already?” Robin asked as she broke a sugar donut in half. “Allison’s really missed her, and the place hasn’t felt the same with her gone.”

“Maybe Reynolds will be less of a bitch now,” Andrew said before he had some coffee. “ _Maybe_. And Renee always brings in the good snacks.” Her homemade cupcakes were worth showing up to work even on his worst days.

Robin rolled her eyes at that statement yet smiled. “Right, you didn’t miss your best friend at all.”

“She’s not my best friend,” Andrew argued. “Stop inhaling sugar, it’s bad for you.”

“Uh-huh.” Robin smirked around a mouthful of powdered sugar donut while Seth let out a cheer upon seeing Renee. “Totally believe it.”

Andrew made a rude gesture her way then started on his second donut while he watched Seth make an ass out of himself in front of Renee and Reynolds (not a bad way to start the day).

Reynolds had just given her ex-boyfriend a laughing shove away when Neil came into the break room, his actions hesitant and expression cautious as if he wasn’t certain what was going on, bagged lunch held in his hands and covered neck to toe in oversized clothes. He paused when he caught sight of Renee, who went still when she noticed him in return, the cheerful smile on her face slipping into a thoughtful expression.

“Ragamuffin!” Reynolds called out as she stepped away from Renee, _her_ expression one of dismay. “You’re even worse today, what the hell?”

Neil blinked as if distracted then glanced down at his chest, at the overlarge peacoat left open to reveal another too-big, almost black sweater which looked as if it would fit Wymack of all people, the sleeves falling past his hands, and dark jeans with the hems rolled up. “Uhmm….” He also appeared tired as if he hadn’t gotten much rest the past weekend, with dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair even more tousled than usual.

Huh, someone looked more like shit than Andrew for once.

“You and me, tomorrow at lunch,” Reynolds insisted as she walked over to latch on to Neil’s left arm; Renee made an abortive motion toward her girlfriend but it seemed that Casper was minding its manners for once.

Well, mostly minding its manners since Seth yelped when a stack of empty coffee cups was knocked over near him.

“No excuses,” Reynolds continued while Wymack glared at Seth, who prattled on about how the accident wasn’t his fault, “I’m only letting you go another day because Renee’s back and we have lunch plans. Speaking of which… Renee, this is Neil, a hopeless case when it comes to dressing himself. Neil, this is Renee, the love of my life.” Reynolds smiled with pride as she introduced the two.

Renee’s smile was back in place as she held out her right hand to Neil, her gaze intent on his face while Neil managed to shake off Reynolds’ hold. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from Allison.”

Neil paused for a moment as if unsure what to do before he extended his right hand with evident reluctance, the sleeve slowly falling back to expose his fingers. “I, ah, heard about you, too, from Jean and the others here.”

“All good, I hope,” Renee teased, a dimple in her left cheek as their hands clasped. It looked as if Neil went to say something, only for his expression to grow vacant and Renee’s smile to falter again.

Then Neil jerked his hand back and stuttered out something about looking over some files as he turned and all but fled the room while Renee stood there with her hand still outstretched as if she’d been rendered incapable of movement.

Matt called out after Neil while Moreau went after the man (much to Jeremy’s distress, judging from the way he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to follow). As for Renee, she didn’t move until Reynolds gave her a gentle shake. “Babe? You okay?”

Renee acted startled by the question. “Oh? Oh, yes,” she breathed out. “Still acclimating to the time change and everything.”

“It’ll be an easy day for you,” Wymack assured her as Andrew refilled his mug and prepared to leave the crowded room. “Just get caught up on some paperwork and a few things, and we’ll see about some new cases for you by the end of the week.”

Andrew walked away while they continued their conversation, curious despite himself over why Neil had rushed off like that as if scared of _Renee_.

Granted, she _was_ a cold-blooded killer… but that was in the past and she’d been ‘reborn’ and ‘turned over a new leaf’ and all that other Christian bullshit she spouted about no longer being Natalie Shields and a gang member and so forth. A leopard couldn’t change one’s spots so easily even with a new birth certificate and a shiny new cross hung around one’s neck, but he only argued with her so much over certain things.

Things which Neil didn’t know about, that no one (other than perhaps Reynolds and Wymack) at work knew about; everyone adored Renee, bought into her cheerful smiles and ate her (admittedly delicious) baked goods without hesitation and sung her praises as if she was the ‘Foxhole’s Court’s unofficial angel.

Just a little suspicious, Neil’s behavior, but what else was new about the man?

A benefit of Renee’s arrival was that it helped to provide a distraction from the bit of a mess that had been left in the one room Friday afternoon (surely someone was going to notice the lingering scent of cedar and missing stuffed animals), but all Andrew cared about was that the poltergeist was gone, his ribs felt a bit better and he had a nice sugar rush going on to start his work week. Bee stopped by to check up on him to see if he felt any better, and they made plans to go out to lunch in a couple of days.

Then it was time for Peter’s session, so Andrew gathered everything he needed and went to the usual room, and wasn’t surprised to find Neil (and Casper) already there. “Rough weekend?” he asked as he set his bag down on the table. “You and Casper doing some side jobs for Halloween? Sure you’d be good at it.”

Neil gazed at him as if he’d spoke in gibberish before he sighed and rubbed the palms of his hands over his bruised eyes. “I don’t like that holiday.”

Oh really? That was interesting and somehow not surprising. “What, too confusing with all the people walking around in sheets? Can’t tell Casper apart from the people in costumes?”

A stuffed rabbit was knocked to the floor while Neil sighed again. “It must be nice to be so ignorant,” he said as he stared at the door as if contemplating pulling a rabbit and running through it at any moment.

“Says the man who didn’t get the ‘Slimer’ reference,” Andrew shot back as he pulled out the coloring books for Peter, and nothing else was said until the boy arrived.

He worked on preparing Peter for the eventual announcement that the boy’s mother was dead and that he’d be moved into a more permanent foster home while Neil encouraged Peter to start using English, building up his confidence during the session. The time went by quickly, and as soon as it was over, Neil left right behind Peter and Abby (a rabbit indeed).

For some reason, Andrew had a sudden feeling of being unwanted. It was a good thing he had a strong sense of self (all those years of dealing with Bee, unfortunately), which left him able to pull himself together somehow and leave the small room without breaking down in uncontrollable sobs at being abandoned so thoughtlessly.

Or something like that.

Since Neil didn’t want to play their truth game, he went off in search of Renee, who might have an answer or two to give without any cost (at least at the moment). Andrew found her in her office, busy tidying things up while soft jazz music played in the background and a fresh bouquet of flowers rested on her desk. “I can’t stand Reynolds but she doesn’t miss many tricks,” he said as he entered the room after a couple of knocks.

Renee smiled at him as she finished fussing with the blinds and went to sit behind her desk, a quick nod to the flowers on her way. “She wanted there to be something to welcome me back.”

“So she’s actually happy to have you here?” Andrew drawled as he sprawled into the padded ‘guest’ chair, mindful of his healing ribs. “And you wonder why I don’t like her.”

That prompted a faint giggle from Renee as she gave a gentle tug to the petals of a pink rose which matched some of the ends of her once more freshly dyed hair – Reynolds must have pulled some strings to have her hair done that weekend. “One day you’ll know what it’s like to be in a fulfilling relationship.” There was a sharp edge to her smile just then which set off warning bells in his head for some reason.

“I’m already in ‘fulfilling’ relationships,” he told her. “It’s called ‘fuckbuddies’ and we get each other off with no strings attached.” There was Roland here in Columbia, Peter in Charleston, and Adam in Myrtle Beach; he could call them up (when he was nearby, obviously Roland was the more frequent ‘choice’) and, if their schedules and urges matched up, they could meet up to deal with an ‘itch’ and go on their separate ways afterward. If they weren’t, then he could find someone suitable for a one-night stand (or one-hour stand, more like it).

He got off with people who respected his ‘quirks’ (no holding him down, no touching where he didn’t want, sometimes no kissing, no questions, no affection, no… nothing he couldn’t accept) and that was that. What else was there?

“Andrew….” Renee gave him the sad look he received from time to time (from Bee and Aaron and Nicky and Wymack and even _Katelyn_ ) before she shook her head and clasped her hands on top of the desk. “One day you’ll understand.”

He clicked his tongue to show what he thought about that. “What happened with you and Neil?” he asked to change the subject, done with the topic at the moment. “He acted freaked out with you for some reason. What did you see with Casper?” When Renee’s expression grew shuttered, he leaned forward with his own hands clasped between his knees. “You _did_ see Casper, didn’t you?” he asked as his suspicions grew. “What is it? Some guy? How bad is it? What _is_ he?”

“Andrew,” Renee breathed out in a long sigh in a manner Andrew always hated, in a way that people always did when they were preparing to ‘spill’ bad news – ‘Andrew, we’re sending you back to the foster home.’. ‘Andrew, I don’t believe your story about Fred hurting you like that.’. ‘Andrew, the Thompsons are approved foster parents, they’d never mistreat you so why are you telling lies about them?’.

His muscles clenched while Renee continued speaking. “I… I did ‘see’ the ghost near Neil, and… it wasn’t a man,” she continued as she got up from the desk to walk over to the windows to sit down on the sill of the left on while facing him. “It wasn’t a man at all,” she repeated while gazing at him.

Okay, that wasn’t quite what he’d expected to hear. “What is it, then?” Was it another child like with Amelia? A sibling?

Renee toyed with a strand of her rainbow-hued hair before she took a deep breath and answered. “I told you, I only can see them, I can’t hear them,” she explained. “But what I saw… it was a woman.” Judging from her wince as she spoke, she knew what those words would mean to him. “She’s a little faint to me, I don’t see as clearly as some, but she’s older than Neil, in her late thirties at least, and she’s small, like him.” She frowned as she seemed to focus on something that wasn’t there, as she seemed to try to recall a memory. “I don’t think it’s the way I ‘saw’ her but her actual shape, if that makes sense. Sometimes if a ghost is weak then their projection can be distorted or washed out, but I think I saw her as is, and that’s as small and with blonde hair.”

Neil had implied that his ‘Casper’ was there to protect him, that there had to be some sort of bond for a ghost (or a poltergeist) to stay with a person. “Is it his family? Do you think it’s his mother?” he asked, the last word forced out through clenched teeth.

Renee was quiet as if considering her words before speaking. “I… there’s most likely some sort of blood-tie between them, yes,” she admitted as she gazed at him with obvious concern. “There’s a resemblance between them, the same bone structure and movements, and I got a sense of a very strong tie… that implies blood and sacrifice.” She shook her head as she reached for the precious cross around her neck. “I’ve never seen anything like this, to be honest. He allowed her _so close_ , Andrew. She was pressed against him and he didn’t react, didn’t do _anything_ , as if he was used to her being there. Do you know what it’s like, having a ghost near you?”

When he shook his head, she continued.

“It’s… it’s _cold_ ,” she stressed. “I thought I was imagining it at first, that I was going crazy, then I learned better. It’s a sign for us to look out for, a warning, and I can’t imagine how Neil bears it if she’s there all the time.”

“I realized it after a while,” Andrew admitted as he focused on the warm cross hanging around his own neck. “I thought it was the a/c acting up, and Wymack’s checking the entire building because of me and the others complaining.” No wonder Neil always wore such thick sweaters… though he couldn’t help but wonder if there weren’t other reasons for it.

Especially since he now knew that ‘Casper’ was a woman.

Since he knew ‘Casper’ could be a woman who was Neil’s blood relative. Was she Neil’s sister?

Was she Neil’s _mother_? Something dark and acidic burned through Andrew at that thought.

“It’s a sign that a ghost is present, and if she’s with him all the time like you suggest and I suspect… it’s not good,” Renee said as she shook her head. “The longer a ghost stays with someone, the stronger the bond and the more chance that,” she frowned as her hand fluttered through the air, “things can get out of control.”

“Meaning?” he asked as he leaned back in the chair to give his ribs a break.

“That the ghost can grow more powerful and destructive,” she admitted in a faint voice.

“Like going after the people around him?” Andrew ‘suggested’.

She was quiet for several seconds before shrugging. “Perhaps. I heard about Matt.”

“Sure, _Matt,_ ” Andrew stressed before motioning to his ribs. “The only reason Casper’s not tearing through the staff is because I made Neil promise to rein hi- _her_ in.”

Renee blinked at him a couple of times before humming. “Yes, your agreement.” She was quiet as she tugged on her cross while appearing thoughtful. “Ah, did you… I know you don’t… uhm, did you _touch_ Neil?”

Andrew was quiet for a couple of seconds while he parsed what the hell she’d just said. “I shook his hand over our agreement, if that’s what you mean, but no, I don’t otherwise go around _touching_ people on principle.” When she nodded upon hearing that, he gave her an intent look. “ _Why_?”

She was quiet again as she gazed down at her right hand with a slight frown on her face. “I’m not sure, to be honest, but I felt something when our hands touched, something unusual, and it made the ghost unhappy, our handshake.”

“It shoved me away when I tried to touch him the one time,” Andrew reminded her as he wondered why the thing didn’t want anyone to touch Neil. “It kept people away from him when we met in a coffee shop, too. Are those things usually so possessive?”

“To be honest, I don’t have much experience with ghosts being near people like this,” Renee admitted with a chagrined expression. “Most are associated with a place, not a person – where they died or were born or were happy. Sometimes they can be tied to an item, too, like a wedding ring or their death bed or whatever killed them.” She once more toyed with a strand of hair as she gazed out as if searching for something beyond the walls of her office. “When a ghost attaches to a person, sometimes they’re trying to honor an obligation such as raising a child or protecting a sibling or spouse, but often it’s an unresolved emotion like rage or hatred or jealousy.”

“What do you think is happening with Neil?” Andrew didn’t have much time before his next case and wasn’t in the mood for Renee’s ‘I don’t know’s.

“Well, if she is his mother or another relative and she’s supposed to protect him, then what is she protecting him from?” Renee asked as she pushed away from the window. “What’s so bad that he needs a ghost around him all the time, that she hasn’t passed on already?”

He hadn’t thought of that, dammit. “Are we sure that he needs protection? Maybe Casper just can’t bear the thought of him doing anything without her approval and so can’t kick it off the mortal coil just yet.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Renee insisted as she returned to her desk. “If a spirit could remain behind for such a frivolous reason, there’d be millions if not billions of them in existence.” She placed her right hand over her cross as she slumped back in her chair. “Some people aren’t ready to take the next step to see what waits for them after death, after all.”

“One wonders why, when it’s nothing,” Andrew argued.

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.” A slight smile tugged at the corners of Renee’s lips. “We’ll save the philosophical debate for another time, but yes, people fear the unknown if their faith isn’t strong enough.”

“Not everyone is you, Christian girl,” Andrew said as he stood up so he could leave.

“Even I have to wonder how I’ll fair in my final moments,” she admitted as she reached out to cup a blooming pink rose. “I’ve a lot of sins to atone for, enough to make me fear if I’ll ever properly balance the scales.”

There wasn’t much Andrew could say to that, so he gave her a quick salute before he went on his way.

*******

Neil managed to avoid Renee for two days; the young woman was very popular at work and so people always wanted to talk to her during breaks or in the hallway or during lunch, which was fine with him. There were a couple of odd looks when he found some excuse to not be included in those discussions or declined the invitations to lunch (he so far had also managed to escape from Allison’s attempt to ‘update’ his wardrobe). At least he’d appeared worn out after the whole poltergeist thing and could put people off with the story about recovering from a mild cold to make them leave him alone (though it meant that Matt and Nicky brought in leftovers for him almost every day).

Even if the story was fake, there was some truth to it; he felt a lingering exhaustion which kept him from going out for a run or doing much other than returning to the flat after work, forcing himself to eat then going to bed after reading a little. The sight of garish decorations in the neighborhood and stores didn’t help as people prepared for Halloween in another week.

There was even a fake plastic jack o’ lantern in the break room, along with some cartoon ghosts and witches hung up on the wall and cabinet doors. Mary tore one of the ghosts down while Neil prepared himself a cup of tea, tired after his afternoon session with Robin and Lee.

Renee came in as he waited for the tea to steep, her expression placid until she caught sight of him and his mother. “Oh, good day,” she wished him, her gaze intent and a bright purple mug held clasped between her hands.

Neil gave her a cautious look in return and a slight nod, wary of the young woman because of her ability to see ghosts and from what he’d learned about her when they’d shook hands. He didn’t understand why everyone went on about her being a ‘sweetheart’ and ‘precious’ and things like that when he’d ‘seen’ her kill people and sell drugs without any remorse.

/ _It’s the two-faced bitch_ ,/ Mary muttered as she hovered near Neil’s right shoulder. / _What lies will she spew this time, hmm? Best to just carve out her tongue, son_./ Mary hissed as she grabbed a wrapper someone had left on the counter and threw it at Renee, who stepped out of its way with ease.

“Mum,” Neil breathed out, mindful of how anyone could walk into the room at any moment.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” Renee said, her voice pitched low as she took a careful step forward. “I’ve seen her lurking around me a couple of times this week.” Her left hand rose to give a gentle tug on the golden cross hanging around her neck – a cross which acted as a protective ward, from what Neil could tell.

“Why would she like you?” Neil found himself asking as he removed the teabag from his own mug.

Renee cocked her head to the side as if she considered the question. “I haven’t harmed her, even though she’s caused a couple of my friends some pain.”

/ _As if a half-trained bitch like her could do any harm to **me**_ ,/ Mary sneered as she slowly circled Neil. / _Her wards are pathetic_./

The ones she’d put up in Jean’s art room hadn’t been anchored properly, no, but if she’d made the cross on her neck and whatever Andrew wore? Then she did know something, Neil had to admit. Despite that, he couldn’t stand there and allow any type of threat to his mother. “You even _try_ to exorcise her, and you’ll be more than ‘harmed’,” he promised as he set the mug aside so his hands were free.

Renee stilled at those words and for a moment something disturbing flashed through her dark eyes, something that made Mary press against Neil’s back until he wanted to shiver. “She’s your mother, isn’t she? For such a strong urge to protect someone who should have passed on, it has to be a close tie.” When he didn’t answer, she let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Neil. That’s not a wise choice for you to make,” she said with a blankness that some might be foolish enough to mistake for calmness.

/ _The bitch really doesn’t know anything, does she?_ / Mary taunted as she wrapped her arms around Neil’s chest. / _Snatch the damn cross away so I can snap her neck_./

If it wouldn’t attract so much attention…. Neil gave the young woman a sliver of his father’s smile. “I’m not some drugged-up gang thug, _Natalie_ ,” he told her, the smile strengthening when Mary chuckled while Renee’s own defensive façade crumbled. “Keep your wards and foolish intentions well away from us.”

“How did you….” Renee’s gaze darted toward Mary before she shook her head. “She’s not good for you, you have to realize that. Both of you need to move to on, to let go of the past and-“

“You don’t know anything,” Neil gritted out while Mary raged on beside him. “You don’t know what she does for me, so stay away from us.”

“Neil,” Renee tried again, only to gasp when Mary threw the mug of tea at her; she managed to duck out of its way just in time.

/ _Come near him again and it’ll be a fucking knife, you slag_ ,/ Mary taunted as she vibrated with possessive fury. / _A ward won’t stop that, won’t stop me from dropping a damn ceiling on your head!/_

“Worry about your own life, _Natalie_ ,” Neil said as he left the break room. “Wouldn’t want something to happen to you because of senseless curiosity, would we?”

Jean was a little quiet that afternoon, but he seemed to be working through something ever since Renee had returned. He did complain to Neil while they cleaned up after the students about how Jeremy wanted him to attend a Halloween party and didn’t seem surprised when Neil said he didn’t have any plans for the holiday, and they parted ways after wishing each other a good night.

Aunt Miriam called Neil that evening, asking if he’d given any thought about what he’d do for the holidays that year. Neil told her that work would be busy up until the Christmas break and that he didn’t want to take too much time off as a new employee, and that he was certain he could spend the day or two with the new ‘friends’ he’d made, such as Jean. That wasn’t too much of a lie – if he made mention of being alone, Nicky or Matt would probably invite him over for dinner, but he had no intention of revealing to them that he was alone over the holiday break.

He wished that everyone would leave him alone, would stop involving themselves in his affairs. All he wanted was to work, to support himself on his own and to be left in peace. All he needed was someplace safe to live, a job and his mother.

On Thursday, David Wymack came into Neil’s office while he was drafting his notes on his session with Allison (who was talking about his clothes again, that time about them doing something next week – and he didn’t think he’d get out of it easily) and Camilla. “You got a minute?” the man asked.

Neil didn’t have an excuse readily available, that and it was rather difficult to turn down his boss. Somehow, he felt it was better to just find out what the man wanted. “Yes,” he said while he glanced at his mother out of the corner of his left eye. “Is something wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask. Had Renee said something about Mary?

“Eh? No, just wanted to check and see what’s going on,” Wymack said as he sat down in the spare chair near Neil’s desk. “So far, I’m hearing great things about you, how you’re really helping with the kids.” He grunted and rubbed at his tattooed right arm as Mary took up a protective position between him and Neil. “I’ve gotten some positive progress reports on the kids since it’s so much easier to get ahead with them when Andrew, Allison and the others aren’t struggling with a language barrier or dealing with translators that don’t show up half the time.”

“I’m glad I can be useful.” Neil meant the words; he wished that he and his mother could have turned to someone like these kids and some of their families did to Palmetto Services, that someone could have helped them. But his father had been too powerful and their only option had been to run.

“That you are.” Wymack smiled at him, and Neil struggled to smile back; the man had always been respectful toward him, had been friendly and kept his hands to himself… but he was around the age that Neil’s ( _Nathaniel’s_ ) father would be if he was still alive, was tall and powerfully built (hands large enough to ball into big fists, arms built up to lash out with strong blows) that Neil didn’t want to risk provoking the man’s temper. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re fitting in all right. You seem to be getting along with Jean and Matt, how about everyone else? Anyone bothering you?” The man leaned forward in his chair, which prompted an angry hiss from Mary and forced Neil to go still to prevent a flinch. “I know Kevin can be a pain in the ass over the whole team sports thing, and Andrew’s… well, Andrew’s Andrew.”

It was on the tip of Neil’s tongue to come up with a complaint of some sort about Andrew, but the young man knew about Mary so he decided that he didn’t want to risk some sort of escalation ‘game’ between them. “It’s fine,” Neil lied with ease. “Kevin’s backed off about the whole bowling thing and there’s an understanding between Andrew and me.”

/ _The Yank understands that it’ll be his spine broken next if he keeps on bothering you_ ,/ Mary muttered.

Wymack cast a glance upward as if looking for the ceiling vents, his thick brows drawn in confusion or annoyance for a moment as he rubbed the goosebumps on his arms. “’Understanding’, huh? Guess that’s one way to put it,” he said as he rose to his feet. “I won’t keep you, I know how busy you guys are with work, but know that if you need anything, my door is always open. Or you can stop by and talk to Abby or Betsy, if you prefer.”

“I’ll do that,” Neil lied.

“Yeah.” Wymack gazed at him for a couple of seconds before he shook his head and left, busy talking on his phone to someone about the air conditioning as he got out in the hallway.

Neil leaned back in his chair and plucked at the soft material of one of the grey fingerless gloves that Allison had given him for a couple of seconds before he shook off the encounter and forced himself to resume working while Mary flittered around the office as if on patrol.

Friday was when Peter found out about his mother being dead – or at least when Neil and Andrew showed up for their session with the child, only for a visibly upset Abby to inform them that he was with Betsy instead, so Neil went to the woman’s office so the psychiatrist could help Peter process the grim news. There were a lot of tears and shouted denials, which Betsy handled with remarkable care and composure, drying the child’s tears and hugging him at times.

Peter turned toward Neil at one point and buried his face against Neil’s abdomen; Neil allowed it in order to keep Mary from shoving the child away and gingerly stroked his back and head, mindful of any skin-on-skin contact. He allowed the embrace for several seconds and was grateful when Betsy seemed to pick up on his discomfort and gently pried a sniffling Peter away.

After about half an hour, an exhausted Peter went off with Abby to lie down for a while before he returned to the foster home. Betsy offered Neil a cup of hot chocolate, which he turned down. “You did well today,” she told him as he prepared to leave her office.

He paused near the door and shook his head. “I don’t… I’m good at translating,” he admitted for some reason while his mother urged him to keep going. “But the kids… you’re so much better with them.” All of the other employees were better with them than he was, knew how to talk to them and calm them down. For so much of his childhood, he’d been alone (in the house in Baltimore) or on the run, which meant that he hadn’t been able to interact much with other children, other than the rare times when Mary had let him attend classes so as to not attract too much suspicion from the locals. Even then, he hadn’t dared to get too close to other children because of his talents.

Betsy smiled at him. “Everyone has their own strengths,” she assured him. “And you do better than you think, judging from how comfortable Peter feels with you.”

He didn’t say anything else, merely gave a slight wave before he left the office.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find Andrew waiting for him in the hallway and sighed when the man indicated that they should step outside. Since there was only so long he could avoid the stubborn bastard, Neil clenched his teeth and followed.

/ _Arrogant prick_./

Neil agreed.

Of course Andrew had a coat on since he’d planned their encounter, but Neil’s sweater was thick and he was used to the cold after the last several years of his mother’s presence, so he wrapped his arms around his chest once they were outside. Andrew didn’t say anything while he lit a cigarette; Neil found himself inhaling slowly once the scent of burnt tobacco filled the air. He’d missed that scent after his mother had died, how it had clung to their clothes and hair because of the way she’d often chain-smoke to stay awake or stave off hunger pangs or deal with the stress of being on the run, but she hadn’t allowed him near a pack of cigarettes after she’d ‘returned’.

He was about to close his eyes and inhale deeply, content to have Mary watch over him, when Andrew finally spoke in German, his deep voice possessing a slight rasp from the cigarette smoke. “ _So Jace Green turned into a poltergeist for his sister, but Anya Peter didn’t turn into a ghost for her son? Why_?”

Neil glanced over to find Andrew starting intently at him, the red ‘cherry’ end of his cigarette adding a warm glow to his almost golden eyes. “ _I… I don’t know what makes one person turn into a ghost and not another, though strong emotions and a tie to something usually plays a part in it_ ,” he tried to explain as he guessed they were back to ‘a truth for a truth’. “ _She may have thought that her husband wouldn’t hurt him, being content just to harm her, and that Peter was safe. Or maybe she was desperate for an ending and didn’t want to remain behind_.” From the sounds of it, the woman had certainly suffered during her life.

/ _The woman never should have left her son_ ,/ Mary said as she pressed against Neil’s left side, between him and Andrew. / _Should have stayed behind long enough to snap the bastard’s neck, at least_./

Andrew’s brows drew together, the only outward change in his expression as he had another puff of tobacco, so Neil curled his fingers into the sleeves of his sweater and spoke again. “What’s with you and Renee Walker?” he asked; he knew what he’d seen in Renee’s memories, which… was a little confusing. There had been glimpses of the two fighting with each other, brutal sessions which left them bruises and even a little bloody, yet them sitting down and drinking coffee together – all overlaid with gentle affection. “You’re friends?”

“I tolerate her,” Andrew said, then clicked his tongue. “I trust her, which I can’t say about many people, and we hang out upon occasion. By some people’s definition, that makes us friends.”

/ _Which means that the arrogant Yank and the bitch could be working together against us_ ,/ Mary warned as she gave a tug to Neil’s hair. / _You can’t trust them at all, Abram_./

Yes, he realized that, and somehow he doubted if he asked either of them if they were plotting something against him and his mother, they would come right out and say it.

“ _My turn_ ,” Andrew said as he flicked ash aside. “ _Your Casper_.” There was the slightest of sneers on his full lips as he mentioned the nickname. “ _She’s a woman and she looks like you_.” Renee had clearly been telling tales there. “ _She’s your mother, isn’t she_?”

Neil could argue that Andrew wasn’t supposed to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t said anything about Andrew talking if someone knew about her, had he? Fresh anger at Renee bubbled up inside of him as his fingers clenched into fists and Mary splintered apart for a moment. “ _Yes, though why do you care_?” he asked. “ _She’s no concern of yours_.”

“ _You’re supposed to keep her under control_ ,” the asshole reminded Neil. “ _As long as she’s haunting this place, she’s my concern_. _Which brings us to my next question, why the hell is she here? Why hasn’t she moved on_?”

/ _You really should have Stuart take care of him_ ,/ Mary told Neil. / _Him and the bitch. Tell Stuart that they’re trying to blackmail you or something._ /

If it wouldn’t attract so much attention…. Neil glared at Andrew, both for the questions as well as taking his ‘why do you care’ as an excuse to ask them.

“ _Because…_.” Neil shivered, more from the memories than the cold. “ _Because she’s all I have, then and now_ ,” he dared to admit. “ _Not all of us had foster families or case workers to look after us, so leave us the hell alone_.” He gave Andrew a virulent look before he stalked away.

Why couldn’t people leave him the hell alone? Why did they have to keep interfering? He was _fine_ , he had his mother, he kept to himself and he didn’t bother anyone. Why wasn’t that enough?

/ _Abram… if they keep pushing… you know it’s not safe here_ ,/ Mary told him as they returned to his office.

“Neither is running away too often,” he murmured, mindful of Jeremy next door. “Hopefully they’ll leave us alone now.” He knew about Renee’s past, which he could use against her – did Allison know everything? He was willing to bet the rest of their colleagues didn’t.

As for Andrew… Neil didn’t _like_ it, but if the man kept _pushing_ , he could always touch him again, could find out what made Andrew reluctant to touch others, dig beneath to find what had made the man so closed-off (find out what it was about those older men). Neil was used to doing things he didn’t like if it kept him and Mary safe.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but Neil was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

*******

The weekend before Halloween, Andrew went to Eden’s Twilight with Kevin, Aaron and, unfortunately, Katelyn (Nicky and Erik were at some work event of Erik’s). He was dressed up as a ghost, as he’d declared the one night: pale grey jeans, pale grey combat boots, and a long-sleeved, tight t-shirt with strips of flimsy material and a full hood (with his armbands beneath the sleeves), along with white shit sprayed in his short hair and a little bit of make-up on his face. He drew the line at dressing in all white, but figured that was good enough.

Apparently, it was a good enough costume as no one recognized him unless he was dressed in his usual black.

Assholes.

Aaron, dressed as a very short Gomez Addams, laughed and took several pictures before Katelyn murmured something to him and made him put his phone away. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” he stated as he leaned against the small bar table. When Andrew gave him the finger, he rolled his eyes. “I mean, _come on_ , it’s not all black. You’re not matching with the other loser over there.” When Kevin gave him the finger as well, Aaron snorted. “The two of you are gonna end up miserable together in another ten years, you do realize that, don’t you?”

“I… uhm… I date other people,” Kevin stuttered out.

“And then you break up with them,” Aaron reminded him. “Or they break up with you.”

“There’s Thea!”

“And Thea keeps dumping your ass because you won’t commit to her,” Aaron said with an evil smile. “There’s only so long you can pull the whole ‘I need to figure myself out’ shit.”

“Yes, she’s shown remarkable patience so far,” Katelyn added as she adjusted the shoulders of her black dress. “No one has a problem with you being bi, Kevin, just figure out who you want to be with and commit, okay?”

Kevin gaped at them for several seconds before he garbled out something about the bar and fled.

Andrew picked up a shot of whiskey and tossed it back. “Well, that’s a new record for breaking him, isn’t it?” he stated as he set the empty shot glass down.

“Thea’s a friend,” Katelyn explained as she picked out one of the ‘weaker’ drinks; she’d just have a shot or two and would drive Aaron home at the end of the night after she burned it off dancing. “I’m fine if she and Kevin don’t work out, I just want him to make up his mind and let her know.”

“Speaking about making up his mind.” Aaron gave Andrew a pointed look as he selected two shots and set one down in front of Andrew. “Are you going to give _anyone_ a serious chance?”

“Now you sound like Nicky,” Andrew said with distaste before he tossed back the shot.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but… I want you to be happy,” Aaron declared, his expression a bit uneasy along with the way he twisted the lapels of his suit. “And while I know that not everyone is the same… I can’t help but think that you’re the type who would be happy to have one person in your life, not… well, I think you’d be happy to have one person you can count on, okay?”

Andrew stared down his twin for a couple of seconds before he reached for another shot of whiskey. “We need more alcohol,” was all he declared before he left the table.

He was grateful to not see Kevin as he approached the main bar, toward the section where Roland worked, and had to wait a few minutes before the bartender could come over to him. “Hey, didn’t recognize you at first,” Roland said, only to laugh when Andrew gave him a blank look. “Another round?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied, along with tapping the wad of bills held between his fingers three times against the bar as a signal that he wanted to meet up later. Roland grinned as he nodded and flashed three fingers, which meant half an hour for the one storeroom.

Andrew took the tray of drinks back to the table, where Aaron gave him a sullen look but remained quiet. After another round of shots, Aaron and Katelyn went off to the dance floor, and Kevin showed up soon afterward with mussed hair and hickey on his neck.

Andrew gave him an assessing look and kept any comments to himself as he checked his phone while he counted down the time (and made sure that Kevin didn’t get too drunk that early in the night), then left at the appropriate time for the one storeroom.

It had been much too long since he’d gotten off with another person ‘thanks’ to his bruised ribs, and Roland seemed in an eager mood that night. Andrew allowed a couple of kisses based on their long-term familiarity before he broke them off, trailed a few nips down the tall man’s neck and then focused on what he’d come there to do (to get them both off).

Roland was hard as soon as they touched and soon so was Andrew, which was a good thing in his mind since all he had to do was undo the other man’s pants and give a couple of strokes before sinking to his knees. He undid the zipper to his own pants so he could jerk himself off at the same time, sparing a couple of seconds to make sure that Roland’s hands were pressed against the wall and not reaching for him before he leaned forward to lick the tip of his ‘fuck-buddy’s’ cock, his eyes drifting shut once it was clear that Roland was obeying their long-defined rules.

It wasn’t until he was sliding his lips along Roland’s cock that he realized that he wasn’t thinking of the man before him but Neil, that he was picturing a short, dark-haired man with a slim build instead of a tall one with darker skin.

Still, caught up with the sounds of Roland’s deep moans, with the pleasure that spiked through him as he stroked his own cock while sliding his lips down Roland’s… Andrew continued with the blow-job, with the feel of Roland’s muscular thigh tensing beneath his left hand as his right slid back and forth around the man’s thick cock as he swallowed around it….

Even as he imagined a higher voice calling out his name, a sharper face gazing down at him, a leaner body trembling against the wall….

He hated the force of his own orgasm at the images in his head, even as he swallowed Roland’s come. The usual pleasure he felt at making one of his ‘fuck-buddies’ orgasm, at having that much control over them, was dampened by the fact that he couldn’t get his mind off of someone else.

Damn Renee and her talk about futures and togetherness and a whole bunch of impossible bullshit.

As soon as he could clean himself off and tidy up his appearance, he was out of the storage room and back at the table downing shots.

“Wow, in a holiday mood or what?” Katelyn asked when she and Aaron came back to have something to drink, water for her and another shot for him. When Andrew leveled a flat look her way, she held up her hands and shook her head.

Needless to say, he only stayed sober enough to return home that night and had more to drink once back at his apartment, and drank some more on Sunday.

Monday saw him hungover and not in the mood to work, yet he pulled himself together enough to show up at the Foxhole Court and deal with his cases. If Neil was a distant asshole and barely paid him any attention? So much the better.

There’d never be _anything_ between them but the cases Wymack assigned to them.

On Tuesday, Andrew received a text from Renee asking him to see her after he returned from his lunch with Bee, where they’d spent the time while eating cheese and chicken taquitos and talking about the candy they’d bought to hand out to the trick-or-treaters the following evening. He headed straight to her office upon returning to Palmetto Services, a little curious over what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until later that day.

He stepped into Renee’s office and blinked at the damage, at the torn petals and leaves strewn about everywhere, the shredded blinds and stuffing from the ruined chairs. “Decided to redecorate or what?” he asked as he leaned against the wall near the door.

Renee gave him a sour look before she resumed trying to clean up the mess. “I’ve a feeling that your office is in the same state and wanted to warn you.” When he stiffened at that statement and went to leave, she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t, not yet,” she asked. “We need to talk about this.”

“About Casper getting out of control? About Neil breaking his word?,” Andrew gritted out through clenched teeth as he surveyed the damage once again. “Tell me why I shouldn’t go to Wymack about this?” About Neil breaking his _promise_ to Andrew.

“Because I’m not sure that Neil knows about this,” Renee explained as she threw a small dustpan of debris into the near-full garbage can before she straightened up. “I saw him earlier today, Andrew, and he was the same as he’s been the past week or so – cautious and taking his cues from me on if I was going to be antagonistic or not. When I was polite towards him, he relaxed a little and was… well, not exactly polite with me, but his usual reserved self.” Renee shrugged as she set the dustpan and small broom aside. “It’s clear to me that unless I push, he’ll leave things as they are. But the ghost?” Her expression tightened as her fingers flexed a couple of seconds, the same they did when they were about to spar. “The ghost was _smug_ , dammit, as she gazed at me from behind him, basically gloating at me. I didn’t understand why she was doing that until I reached my office.”

Andrew considered what Renee was telling him as he glanced around the office. “I’ve felt her away from Neil before, so she’s not always around him.” The damn thing could have left him to wreck their offices and lie about why she’d been gone.

“Yes, I’ve seen her near me at times when he’s been busy with other things, clearly spying on me,” Renee admitted. “I honestly think she did this this without his knowledge, considering his reaction earlier. It’s like I said… she’s been tied to him for too long, she’s willing to do anything if she thinks she’s protecting him.” She grimaced as she surveyed the damage of her room. “Or… what she _thinks_ is protecting him.”

Wasn’t that a cheerful thought?

He left her to clean up her own mess and went to check out his office, which was as wrecked as expected. The furniture was strewn about the room with pages torn out of books littered all over as if snow, but on the whole he had less stuff in his office than Renee did in hers.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off that some damn ghost had come into something that was _his_ and attempted to destroy it.

He knelt down to pick up the remains of one of the few personal items he kept in his office, a picture of him and Bee, and felt a resolve build in him as he brushed aside the broken glass clinging to the ruined photo.

It may be that Neil had allowed such a poisonous influence in his life because he had little choice, that he’d suffered through similar abuse or neglect that many of the children they tried to help each day did… but Andrew knew very well that abused children sometimes chose the _lesser of evils_ when their lives were ones of constant nightmares.

That when they were faced with limited (if any) choices, they would put up with horrible abuse from the people who were supposed to protect them, to take care of them, if it meant they could hold on to what they felt was the only family or sense of security they ever had (had ever found).

Neil said that Casper was his mother and she’d saved him from something – that she was the only option he _had_. That didn’t mean that the woman was the _best_ option he’d ever had or was going to have, was she? And judging from the way she’d pushed aside those people in the coffee shop, the way she did her best to keep everyone at the Foxhole Court (except Moreau) from growing close to Neil….

Andrew thought of Tilda, of Cass, and couldn’t see how Casper was any better for Neil, not as he glanced around the damage of his office. No, something had to be done about the ghost, the sooner the better, and now he had an exorcist (more or less) who could do something about it.

One day Neil would thank him for it.

Maybe.

(Most likely not, if he was realistic.)

But it would still be done.

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> I promise, we're getting somewhere on the Mary front. Definitely setting things up for that, if you can't tell. And that's only part of the story (still lots left). Poor Neil. *hugs* Even if his inner Nathaniel is coming out here and there.
> 
> Poor Renee, too, her life as Natalie was so hard.
> 
> And Andrew's in sooo much trouble.
> 
> Hmm, what else? Chapter titles? Most of the time they're based on songs and this fic is no exception, but the playlist for this has a lot of foreshadowing to it - the songs don't so much capture the chapter itself but what's to come.
> 
> I'm really hoping that life gets back on track (or more on track, it's such a mess right now) in a couple of weeks, but then things conspire to throw it even more out of whack (tries to ignore the latest email from work). 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> *******


	5. Ways to Disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* Uhm, I'm back? It's been a little while, took a little break because of work being... yeah. And fandom being much the same, needing a little time to decide if I was staying (I am, at least for now). So sorry for the wait for a new chapter, but the good news is I've like three more built up so there should be steady posts for a while. 
> 
> I have to say, this is an important chapter, plot-wise. Think some people may be happy with what happens here. Hmm. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to @fall-for-the-game for the beta, and for those sticking with the story (and me) so far.
> 
> References to Andrew's past, for Neil's past in Baltimore and vague references to child abuse. You can always hit me up at @nekojitachan if you're concerned about triggers.

*******

/ _Stupid holiday. Stupid fat fools with their candy and their masks, as if they’d ever seen a real ghost_ ,/ Mary muttered as Neil made his way through the grocery store, intent on getting what he needed for the week then leaving as quickly as possible. Lately his mother’s mood had fluctuated drastically between amused and annoyed, which meant he never knew if she’d reach out to stroke his hair or give it a harsh tug.

He had a feeling he was moments away from one of those harsh tugs, especially since she’d just knocked over a large display containing bags of candy in their wake.

/ _Fattening up their stupid children, feeding them that garbage_ ,/ she continued as he headed toward the laundry aisle so he could get a bottle of detergent, the last item on his list. / _Fattening them up on sugar and lies. I never did that to you, never kept the real world hidden from you, Abram_ ,/ she hissed as she yanked on his hair hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. / _You always knew the truth, knew about ghosts and how cruel life is, about people wanting to use and hurt you_./

“Yes, mum,” he whispered as he blinked back the tears and grabbed the first suitable bottle of detergent he could find; she’d never hidden anything from him, had forced her own memories on him or made him touch items belonging to his father or the man’s associates until he understood the danger they faced, understood just how easily people could lie to him, could use and hurt him, could see him as nothing but an object to be torn apart or sold off or utterly destroyed.

People were indeed cruel.

While they waited in line to check out, Neil stared at a woman with her excited daughter, who was dressed in some brightly colored outfit for trick-or-treating that evening. He’d seen many of the children at Palmetto Services dressed up that day, and Jean had spent the past week working with the children in his art ‘classes’ helping them to make masks for the holiday.

So much effort and excitement for a holiday which celebrated monsters and the dead, when most of these people lived ‘normal’ lives which left them unprepared to deal with such things. They didn’t know how to protect themselves from true ghosts, how to lay a proper salt line or cast a ward, or what to do if someone tried to kill them. They didn’t know how to defend themselves, how to live a life on the run, how to set up a new identity or even a simple thing like picking pockets or-

/ _Fools, all of them_ ,/ Mary sneered as the woman filled the conveyor belt with about a dozen bags of chocolates.

Neil gave a slight nod as his stomach twisted at the thought of all those sweets, as he recalled Nicky and Betsy and Abby trying to give him candy earlier at work that day. These people were so soft, so unprotected, that he felt like a breed apart from them.

Eventually it was his turn to check out; the young man sporting devil horns and a bored expression while scanning his items barely paid any attention to him, and there wasn’t any unwanted contact when Neil handed over the money to pay.

He was grateful to return to his flat, where it was nice and quiet and free of hyper children running around in costumes. “Give me a minute to put the groceries away,” he called out to his mother.

/ _Why did you have to come back to this awful country_?/ she asked as she hovered near the stove. / _We could have gone to Germany or France, maybe Norway_./

“Because it was easier to set up the new identity here,” he explained for about the tenth time. “And less likely the family could keep watch over me.” They’d been over this again and again, and it made him nervous each time she brought it up, made him feel as if she was about to grab his bags in an effort to force him to pack up and leave.

/ _This country is awful_ ,/ she repeated while he put away the food save for an orange he’d have with tea. / _We should leave it_./

“You know why we can’t, not anytime soon,” Neil said in as soothing a manner as he could while he prepared them some tea. “Not without raising any suspicions. Give me some time,” a few years, if possible, “and then we can move on. Maybe Russia.”

Mary went still save for a faint shimmer which ran through her translucent body then nodded. / _Russia would be good, we’ve never been there. Someplace new is good. No memories for once_./

“Yes, no memories,” he agreed. No nightmares of being caught, of bleeding out or the pain from having his mother stitch his wounds closed, no fear-filled nights spent huddled together or days where they pushed on despite the exhaustion and hunger.

Russia could be a fresh start for them (or China or Greece or Thailand or someplace else)… but not just yet. Neil wanted to enjoy _being_ Neil a little while longer, to help the children at Palmetto Services, to savor the quiet and calm of his current flat, the peaceful friendship he’d found with Jean Moreau.

That was, as long as Andrew Minyard and Renee Walker didn’t do something to interfere first. They’d been quiet the past few days, though Andrew’s demeanor had been even more standoffish than usual.

Neil could put up with the other man being an asshole as long as he remained quiet about Mary and left the two of them alone.

He spent Halloween studying Persian while Mary rambled on now and then about the past, content to ignore the holiday. There had been a few invites from his coworkers to attend parties over the weekend and for that evening, to assist in handing out candy and so forth, but he had no interest in drinking or dressing up or socializing.

The last time he’d ‘celebrated’ Halloween had been when he was around seven years old; the day coincided with some dinner party his father had planned, so Neil ( _Nathaniel_ ) had to dress up in some costume Lola had bought (some superhero he hadn’t known about since he wasn’t allowed to watch movies or read comics). She’d taken him out while his mother had stayed behind with his father ‘to help entertain’, and spent the two hours tormenting him by yanking on his arm, digging her nails into his flesh, tripping him several times and forcing him to eat candy between the houses until he’d been sick twice.

That didn’t even take into account the ghosts he’d seen while out; there was some truth to the stories about October 31st being a time when the spirits roamed the earth in search of their loved ones (or for revenge against those who’d wronged them).

He’d returned to the terrible house in Baltimore shaking in fear and sick to his stomach, bruised and bleeding, only to be backhanded by his father hard enough that he couldn’t go to school the next day due to the bruises on his face.

No, Neil didn’t care for Halloween, and was glad when it was over.

He caught sight of a ghost lingering outside of a shop while on the drive to work the next morning, but as long as it wasn’t a place he frequented, it could be ignored.

After dealing with Jace Green and Jean’s old abuser, Neil wasn’t in any hurry to bother with other ghosts right then unless absolutely necessary.

There were sweet breads dusted with sugar and candy decorated like skulls in the break room when he got into work, treats brought in by Nicky to celebrate the Day of the Dead, along with bowls of leftover candy from the night before which Neil ignored, his stomach twisting at the sight. Andrew was eating one of the breads while he prepared a cup of coffee and gave Neil a cool look, his gaze drifting around a little as if searching for Mary, before he picked up the mug and an entire bowl of candy then left the room.

“You have a lot of kids come by?” Matt asked as he unwrapped a candy skull.

“They didn’t do anything in my building,” Neil said as he put his sandwich away for lunch. “It was quiet.”

“What, not even in the common area or stuff left out in the hallway or something?” Matt appeared disappointed for some reason. “Did you even check to see if they-“

“Matt.” Dan gave him a light touch to his left arm and shook her head. “Some places don’t do it, they don’t like the kids running around in the halls.”

“But it was Halloween,” Matt grumbled as he hopped back; his ankle was healing quickly, enough that he only had to use a cane for support instead of crutches. “Next year, you have to come over to our place if you’re still living in the same apartment,” he told Neil.

All Neil did was give the young man a slight smile before he fixed himself a cup of tea that he could take with him into his office, done with the ridiculous conversation.

That was where Allison finally caught him, a determined gleam in her blue eyes as she tapped the long, manicured fingers of her right hand against the counter. “All right, my schedule’s clear today so you and me, ragamuffin. We’re finally doing this.”

“But I’ve plans to-“

“Jean’s having lunch with Jeremy, I’ve already checked,” Allison declared with evident pride while Neil shot Mary a warning look to back away. “Matt’s going out with Dan, not that you’ve agreed to eat with him in the past month or so, which means you’re all mine.” Her glossy red lips curled in a pleased smile. “I’ve already bookmarked a bunch of outfits.”

/ _Abram_./

“Fine,” Neil said in hopes that his mother would leave the young woman alone. “But I have to agree to them and you’re not buying me much.”

“ _Much_ ,” Allison stressed. “Noon, my office. I’ll even order out so you eat something more nutritious than those cheap sandwiches of yours.” When he nodded again, her smile widened and she went off with her head held high in victory.

Mary waited until they were in his office to start ranting. / _Who does the bitch think she is? I should break that face of hers, should_ -/

“It’s fine,” Neil tried to assure his mother. “I do this and she leaves me alone.”

/ _Don’t be so certain about that, the bitch probably hopes to sink her claws into you_./

“She has a girlfriend,” Neil reminded Mary as he shook his head and powered up his laptop. “She only sees me as some sort of charity project.”

/ _Oh Abram_./ Mary came over to stroke his hair, her presence close enough to make him shiver. / _You look so much like your father_./

“I know,” he said with a sad smile, regretful over how she had to see a reminder of that terrible visage – even one distorted somewhat and altered with dye and contacts – every day. “I’m sorry.”

/ _If she tries anything, I’m snapping her neck_ ,/ Mary swore as her fingers tightened on his hair. / _Hers and that weak bitch who thinks she knows so much_./

It was going to be a long day.

He translated for Peter Minkin, the young child clearly being prepared for the deposition video soon to be filmed for his father’s pending murder trial; Neil was grateful that Peter wouldn’t have to testify in person and should hopefully be able to start moving on with his life soon. Then it was a couple of evaluations of some new children before he sat in with Robin and Lee, which led up to his lunch with Allison.

Mary had disappeared a time or two during the morning, something she had been doing lately. He supposed that she had grown bored with listening to him translate questions for the children and found it more interesting to wander around, and to be honest he could relax a little more without her muttering threats all the time.

However, Mary was with Neil when he (rather unwillingly) finally showed up at Allison’s office. “Good, I didn’t have to send Matt and Seth to track you down and drag you here,” she said as she let him in. “Smart ragamuffin.”

Neil gave a quick shake of his head to dissuade his mother from doing something he’d regret then scowled at Allison. “What’s with the nickname?”

“Hmm, ‘ragamuffin’?” she asked as she motioned for him to sit down at her desk; her office looked like she worked at some fancy corporation in New York or Washington DC with the finely made cherry furniture, the pale grey and blue painted walls, the expensive (he would know after the house in Baltimore and his mother’s family in London) artwork on the wall, even a couple of floral arrangements scattered about the room. “Because that’s what you are.” Her glossy lips pulled back in a delicate sneer as she tugged on the sleeve of his dark grey sweater.

“The kids don’t care what I wear,” he said as he pulled free yet still sat down; there were two large salad bowls and soup containers on the desk.

“Maybe not, but _we_ still have to see you, and people form impressions about you based on your appearance.” Allison sat down and motioned for him to open the containers closest to him. “Start eating while I pull up some outfits.”

He didn’t understand why people’s opinions mattered when he didn’t care about them, when all he was concerned about was that he didn’t have to touch anything unwillingly (or touch as little as possible), or that he didn’t stand out too much. Yet he knew in some cases, it was better to be quiet and just get through the ordeal as quickly as possible rather than put up too much of a fight.

/ _She’s going to waste money on nothing_ ,/ Mary complained as she plucked the petals of a pale pink dahlia one by one.

Neil agreed as he opened the container (mindful to touch the plastic as little as possible with his bare skin), and was pleased to see a salad with chicken, apple slices, dried cranberries, walnuts and what turned out to be goat cheese crumbles, along with a light, tangy dressing. Allison smiled when he started eating and had a few bites of her own salad (salmon instead of chicken) before she moved her laptop to show him something.

“Okay, so you have a thing for long sleeves and covering your hands, which is fine, I can work with that,” she told him, which made Mary still and him to pause in eating his lunch. “It’s a cute look and helps with poor circulation, whatever.” Allison waved a forkful of salad around as she pointedly didn’t look at Neil, as she gave some sort of excuse for him leaving as little skin exposed as possible. “Lucky for you, there’s a lot of choices out there.”

“I… nothing short-sleeved,” Neil mumbled as he stabbed at a piece of chicken and lettuce. “And nothing bright colored!” he added in a hurry when she pulled up some hooded sweater in bright blue.

“Relax, we’ll ease you into this,” Allison ‘assured’ him as she clicked on a top that was pale grey and white instead. “Now for some pants.”

“Uhm… don’t you need my sizes?”

She scoffed at that. “Please, I’m not an amateur at this.”

/ _For a daft cow, she’s not bad_ ,/ Mary said with a slight sniff as she gave up on shredding the flowers. / _Better than the bitch who thinks she knows anything about ghosts._ /

Neil didn’t want to think about Renee Walker just then. “You don’t have to do this,” he tried arguing after he finished the salad then opened the other container to find some sort of spicy soup with mushrooms and barley in it; he was surprised that Allison had figured out that he didn’t like too many vegetables (the lettuce hadn’t been too bad) and wondered if she’d talked to Jean.

That statement made her scoff again. “Right. I’m tired of seeing you dress like you’re homeless or something.” She glanced up from the laptop’s screen to give him a serious look. “You need someone to take care of you.”

He shivered from the blast of his mother’s anger. “No, I don’t,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

Allison huffed with obvious disgust at that as she reached for her own container of soup. “Right, which is why someone as hot as you dresses as if they’re trying to blend in with the woodwor-ah!”

Neil made an abortive movement to stop Mary, but it was useless; the soup, thankfully no longer hot enough to burn, ‘exploded’ from the container as Allison opened it and ended up all over her chest and even a little on her face. He grabbed at some napkins and offered them to the stunned woman while Mary hovered off to the side with a gloating expression on her face.

That put an abrupt end to their lunch (and hopefully Allison’s attempts to dress him), with Neil fleeing to his own office as quickly as he could. Once there, he glared at his mother. “Why did you do that? What if she’d been burned? Andrew and Renee would do something about you then!”

_/Let the manky bastards try_ ,/ Mary sneered as she shuddered with rage. / _I’ll tear them apart_./

How could he make her see that this wasn’t something she could fight with violence, not when Renee knew about ghosts and wards? When Renee ( _Natalie_ ) knew something about _exorcising_ ghosts? “We need to not draw attention to ourselves,” he tried to argue. “To just… to just fit in and keep a low profile, like you always told me.” She used to be so good at that, back when she was alive, at maintaining their most recent identity and preventing any suspicion about who they really were as they moved about from town to town.

They needed to make things work out _here_ , because if they didn’t? Then they’d never settle down, would always be on the run – would be on the run or end up hiding with the Hatfords forever.

/ _No, we deal with the pests and we leave_ ,/ Mary insisted. / _It’s best that way_./

“It’s not,” Neil tried to tell his mother. “It’ll draw too much attention if we-“

He gasped when Mary slapped him hard across his left cheek, the pain partially numbed (for the moment) by intense cold. / _Don’t argue with me, Abram_ ,/ she ordered. / _We leave_./

“No,” he gritted out, and bit the inside of his cheek when he was slapped again. “It’s too dangerous.” For daring to speak back, he had his hair yanked. “Uncle Stuart!”

/ _I’m not afraid of him_ ,/ Mary grumbled, but she backed off after another harsh yank. / _These people are nothing but petty irritants, including your uncle._ /

“Yes, mum,” Neil whispered as he pressed a trembling hand against his throbbing cheek.

/ _I’ll deal with them, just you watch, Abram. I won’t let anyone harm you_ ,/ she promised as she stroked back the hair that had fallen onto his forehead from her pulling on it.

“I know,” he answered, the words slurred from the pain and the bites on the inside of his mouth.

/ _You’ll see, it’ll be fine_./

He closed his eyes as he let the coldness from her touch, her presence, sink in to his skin, his bones.

*******

Andrew gave Peter Minkin a considering look for several seconds before he spoke again. “It’s not that you get a new mother, no one can replace her. It’s just that the Halls would be a better place for you than where you are now. Think of them like an aunt or uncle.”

Neil translated the words while Peter fidgeted a little in the small chair and scribbled in the one coloring book more than tried to color within the lines. “But Lisa told me they’d be my new mom and dad,” the boy said (through Neil).

“They want to take care of you, and maybe one day they might adopt you, but you get to decide your relationship with them,” Andrew explained before he sighed. “No one will replace your mother, but you may one day care for someone almost the same way.” When Peter stared at him with huge brown eyes, he shook his head. “For now, think of them as people who will look out for you and treat you well.” They better treat the boy well, but Alvarez swore that they had been properly vetted and had sterling recommendations, as well as had already fostered a couple of older children without any problems.

Andrew never felt as if he did a good job ‘selling’ the whole foster family thing to his cases, not after everything he’d suffered in the system, but he worked hard with Wymack and Bee and people like Laila to make sure the kids he was responsible for didn’t end up like him. He also reminded himself that he’d ended with Bee eventually, that most children who entered the system didn’t go through the nightmare that he had.

He’d make sure to check up on the Halls, to ensure that they gave Peter a safe, stable home.

The session went on a little longer, was him reassuring Peter to the best of his ability; he would work with the boy for another few months, would transition him to his new home and ensure that he settled in well there, then do some follow-up sessions before the prick’s court date in several months.

Abby took a pensive Peter away, an anxious glance cast Neil’s way as the quiet young man prepared to leave. Peter was a little too young to pick up on things, but the staff at Palmetto Services could easily spot the signs of someone using make-up to hide bruises on their face.

The idiot’s story? That he tried to break up a fight while out jogging one afternoon. It might have been believable if he hadn’t left work early that day for a ‘sudden’ appointment.

It might have been believable if he didn’t have an abusive, possessive bitch of a ghost haunting his fool of an ass.

Renee insisted that they ‘back off’ from Neil until they had a definite plan, until she was certain she could exorcise said ghost, but Andrew had caught what appeared to be a fresh patch of make-up on Neil’s right cheek during the session with Peter and moved to intercept the young man once they were alone.

“So, get into another fight?” he asked while he blocked Neil’s access to the door.

“Huh?” Neil frowned, clearly confused over the reference to his latest injury while Andrew was blasted with cold due to Casper’s unhappiness. “Oh, yeah.” He gave a slight shrug as he lightly touched his right cheek with cloth-covered fingers; as usual, he was wearing a dark, overlarge sweater. “I fell in the shower.”

“’I fell’, ‘I broke up a fight’, ‘I tripped on the stairs’, ‘I’m clumsy’ – all the classic lines of someone who’s being abused,” Andrew stated as he folded his arms over his chest and fought not to shiver at another blast of cold air while the damn cross on his neck grew warm. “Do you even listen to yourself? Do you think we’re that stupid?”

Anger flashed in Neil’s fake dark eyes as he took a step backwards. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, no one’s abusing me. Now if you’ll get the fuck out of my way, I need to leave.”

How could someone intelligent enough to speak so many languages be so _stupid_? “Why do you let Casper do this to you?” Andrew asked as he refused to move. “That’s not protection, that’s abuse.”

“You don’t know anything, now get out of my way,” Neil repeated through gritted teeth as he attempted to walk around Andrew.

“Answer me,” Andrew insisted as he did something unusual, as he reached out to grab onto Neil’s wrist to make him stop running away, the damn idiot rabbit. He didn’t mean to _touch_ him, except Neil’s right arm was stretched out to reach for the door and the sleeve of his too-big sweater had slid back enough that Andrew latched on to part of his exposed hand and wrist.

He stiffened at the contact but didn’t let go, not when he was trying to get through to the stubborn fool. “How long are you going to insist that she’s not as destructive as that poltergeist we got rid of, hmm? Except Amelia’s brother never hurt _her_ ,” he pointed out before he released an unmoving Neil.

The other man didn’t say anything or react for several seconds before he let out a slow breath, his eyes oddly blank for some reason. “I keep telling you and _Renee_ that you don’t know anything,” he said in an odd tone of voice as if he wasn’t all mentally ‘there’ right then. “You don’t know anything about me and my mother.”

“I know an abusive relationship when I see it.” Andrew gave him a flat look as he wiped his right hand along the thigh of his jeans.

“No, you only _think_ you, do, _AJ_ ,” Neil said as his eyes grew even more unfocused. “You think she’s like _Drake_ when she’s not.” The mention of those two names made the breath catch in Andrew’s throat and a feeling similar to ice cold water run down Andrew’s spine, made his stomach twist with nausea – as did the next few words. “Now, _please_ , be a _good boy_ and get out of the way.”

Andrew couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything as Neil walked around him and away – and then was knocked off his feet as over a dozen stuffed animals slammed into him with enough brute force that the stuffing flew out of a couple of them.

It took him over a minute to recover his breath and his feet, to realize that Neil had actually spoken _those_ words, those _names_ , and by that point he was filled with a rare rage which had him stalking out of the room, the stuffed animals left scattered on the floor, with a goal in mind.

Luckily, Renee was alone in her office – for anyone who might have been in there, since Andrew would have forcibly thrown them out so they could talk in peace. Renee looked up from her laptop and immediately saved whatever she was working on then leaned back in her chair. “What happened?”

“What the _fuck_ is Josten?” he demanded to know as he brushed off a bit of poly filling which clung to his black shirt. “He can do more than see ghosts, can’t he?” It was the only explanation for _that_.

She got up to stand in front of her desk as he paced around the redone office; after Casper’s ‘rampage’, she’d installed a couple of new bookshelves, gotten some ‘new’ chairs and pictures for the walls from the local thrift shop… and warded the hell out of the room (along with Andrew’s and then Allison’s offices as well). She didn’t know the trick that Neil had done with the glue (one of many things she was looking into at the moment), but made sure her little emblems were firmly anchored and tucked out of the way so nothing happened to them that time. “Tell me what happened.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath and bank the rage to a manageable level before he spoke. “I confronted him about the bruises and somehow, he brought up someone from my past.” Renee didn’t know the full story about his childhood, didn’t know _names_ , but she knew _enough_. He knew that she used to be Natalie Shields, she knew about his stint in juvie and that he’d done it to get away from someone who’d hurt him, that his time in foster care had been _bad_.

Renee wasn’t _stupid_ , and as someone who’d also been sexually abused as a child… well, she wasn’t stupid.

“Then Casper slapped me with a bunch of stuffed animals and I ended up here,” he finished in a quieter tone of voice as he slumped against a bare space of wall, his arms once more folded across his chest and fingers tapping against his empty armbands.

“I see.” Renee tugged on the dyed ends of her hair for a moment while she frowned. “Did he touch you before he said anything? Touch you skin to skin?”

How did she know that? “Yes, I grabbed him to keep him from rabbiting away.” When she grew thoughtful again, it was his turn to frown. “What is he?”

“It’s… not the easiest thing to explain,” Renee began, only to sigh when Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “If what I suspect is true, it’s a bit like telepathy but he needs to be touching something for it to work.”

Andrew pushed away from the wall as the anger returned in full force. “You’re telling me that he read my _mind_?” His skin crawled and temper flared at the thought of someone crossing a border he’d never imagined being violated, a line that should _never_ be crossed. “I’m going to _kill_ him.” All those bastards who’d taken from him before, who’d ignored his ‘no’s, had done so from his _body_. He’d never had anyone reach into his _mind_ before (other than to leave those horrible memories behind he’d never wipe clean, to make him doubt and hate himself) to take things without his permission.

“Andrew, _no_.” Renee held up her hands and shook her head. “I don’t think he can control it, which is why I haven’t said anything before now. I’ve been watching him, and I’ve noticed how he’s always covered up, how he avoids touching anyone or items that are commonly used if he can avoid it. Jean says he keeps his fingers and hands covered as much as possible, and I’ve caught the ghost interfering a time or two when people get too close to him and even move things for him. People with his ability usually don’t have any control over it.”

That didn’t make him feel any better about things. “So what, you just let him go around touching things and reading our minds?”

“Did you hear what I said? He can’t _control_ it, which means he doesn’t really want to use it or else he wouldn’t always be covered up and staying out of reach of everyone,” Renee said in that concise manner of hers which always signaled when she was upset. “That and it’s an incredibly rare talent, which means I wanted to be certain that I wasn’t imagining things before I said something.” When Andrew merely gazed at her with temper only slightly contained, she sighed. “I’m sure you’re thinking about him being able to read your thoughts, but it’s not as simple as that. From what I’ve been able to find out about this talent, people like him usually pick up strong emotions and images from most items, and it’s only when they’re in contact with other people that they can sense more things like that. Then it depends on the other person how much they sense, that and their talent itself, so it’s different with everyone.”

Neil had managed to ‘pick up’ on Drake and Andrew’s hatred of ‘please’, though the one poltergeist had said ‘AJ’, hadn’t it? “He picked up enough.” Too much – anything was too much. “And was more than willing to use it against me.”

“He’s made it clear that he won’t stand by and let us threaten his mother,” Renee agreed, her voice rough and expression guarded in such a manner which made Andrew wonder if she hadn’t had her own run-in with Neil’s cursed talent. “Which is why I told you that it’s best we avoid him and the ghost as much as possible until we know exorcising her is going to work,” she chided yet again.

“Except we’re not really getting anywhere, are we?” Andrew motioned around the room, in the direction of a couple wards as he scoffed. “The possessive bitch is using Neil as a punching bag, and you’ve had to ward Reynolds’ office to keep her away from your girlfriend. How much you wanna bet you’re gonna have to ward more offices before you finally figure things out, hmm?” He’d have Renee do his family’s if he could figure out how to explain the damn things.

“I’m _trying_.” The roughness grew in Renee’s voice as she tugged on the cross around her neck. “I don’t want to make the same mistake I did with Jean, and this ghost… she’s so _powerful_. The person who seems to know best about getting rid of her is Neil, and it’s clear I can’t ask him for advice!” The frustration was plain in her voice, her expression.

“What about your friends in Africa? Still nothing?” Andrew was growing tired of Renee’s lack of information, of coming into work each day to feel Casper’s cold presence hovering around, to seeing Neil with new bruises covered up or trying to hide injuries elsewhere on his body. It reminded Andrew too much of his own childhood, of those few months with Tilda and her treatment of Aaron; he’d been ready to go ahead with his plan to tamper with her car’s brakes when she’d done him the ‘favor’ of overdosing, the abusive bitch.

Something told him it wouldn’t be so easy with Casper.

“No, they haven’t been able to tell me anything helpful for this situation,” Renee admitted. “The church is trying with a few other contacts, but… it’s difficult when there’s so few people who can do this in the first place and we’re trying not to draw attention to us.”

“What, no Craigslist ad?” he sneered.

Renee closed her eyes and appeared to be praying for something. “I’ve work to do,” she said after several seconds, “and I’m sure you do, too. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve new information, but until then, leave Neil alone, leave the ghost alone, and don’t touch him.”

“I’m breaking his fingers if I see him touch anything of mine,” Andrew swore as he headed toward the door, unwilling to allow Neil to use that freakish power on Aaron or Bee or Nicky, or anything he owned.

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you anything!” Renee called out before he left the office.

He didn’t feel any spots of cold in the hallway or flares of warmth from the cross, which led him to believe that Casper wasn’t hovering around (for once), so went to his own office to get some work done before his next case (to force all thoughts of Neil and Drake aside). When it came time for lunch, he had something delivered and ate in the break room with Robin so he could watch Neil again that day.

As expected, Neil joined Jean for lunch, the two of them seated at the one back table and busy talking in French in-between bites. Jean had some sort of casserole while Neil ate ramen, complete with chopsticks, his gaze flickering over to Andrew’s table from time to time.

He didn’t appear smug or disgusted when he looked at Andrew, just intent as if checking things out. When Andrew didn’t try to approach him, a slight tension left his shoulders and he focused his attention back on Jean, who was gesturing with the spoon held in his left hand.

Perhaps there was something to what Renee had said about Neil only picking up so much with a touch – Andrew wasn’t going to give him another chance to read his mind or past again.

And Renee thought there was something tying them together? Some sort of ‘future’ for them? Only one where Andrew dealt with Casper then talked to Wymack about finding the Foxhole Court a new translator. One who couldn’t read minds or had weird-ass powers.

He was busy for the rest of the day, between his cases and dealing with paperwork and bureaucracy and all the shit of working with any type of government system, even if on the periphery. His head ached and back burned by the time he was done, leaving him eager to stop by the gym to work out for an hour or so (now that his ribs had healed enough), both to stretch some muscles and wear himself out enough to hopefully avoid any nightmares that night.

Hopefully.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to go out to the parking lot to find Kevin and Seth standing next to his car with angry expressions on their faces; when he got close enough to the vehicle, he found them staring at the slashed tires on the driver’s side.

‘Whoever’ had done it (he very well knew who – or what – had done it), had managed to cut entirely through the thick rubber, which meant there was no chance in hell of them being patched. Two tires (he supposed he was ‘lucky’ it wasn’t all four) meant that he couldn’t make do with the spare in the trunk, and might as well have it towed to the dealer so they could replace all four.

His only saving grace was that he was planning on getting the tires replaced soon anyway, and had a plan to cover towing (a gift from Aaron, of all things).

“Shit, man, you piss someone off or what?” Seth asked while he shook his head. “That’s definitely deliberate.”

“Wymack should get some cameras for this part of the parking lot,” Kevin said as he texted on his phone. “Considering all the court cases we’re involved in and disgruntled family members we deal with and everything.”

Considering the amount of destructive ghosts that had entered their life since the old man hired a certain translator.

Seth gave Andrew a ride to the dealer after the tow truck showed up, where he got to buy four new tires a couple of months earlier than intended. Renee called while he waited for them to be put on (a tattle-tell Seth, he was willing to bet), and let him know that so far, it appeared that Casper had limited her damage to him (probably for daring to touch Neil earlier, that and the whole ‘get rid of the damn ghost’ conversation).

Wymack stopped by soon after Andrew settled in his office the next morning, halfway through his sweetened coffee and a large slice of the cinnamon coffee cake that Renee had made. “Heard about the car,” the old man said as he sat down in the spare chair.

“Kevin has a big mouth,” Andrew complained.

“He’s been after me for more security cameras for a while,” Wymack grumbled as he rubbed at the salt and pepper stubble on his firm jaw. “We can always use more security, but I also don’t want to scare anyone away. That aside… you file a police report?” When Andrew gave him a blank stare back, he shook his head. “Why not? You’re not the type to let someone get away with messing with your car.” When Andrew still didn’t respond, the old man sighed. “Don’t start any shit that’ll be bad for the place.”

“I won’t,” Andrew promised; things would get better once Casper was gone.

Wymack grunted at that. “There’s been a lot of weird stuff happening around here – rooms being trashed, people having accidents, now your car.” He gave Andrew an intent look and didn’t seem surprised when there wasn’t an answer forthcoming. “I can’t get Neil to talk to me at all, either.”

Andrew scoffed at that. “Not one of your smartest hires there.”

“We’ll disagree on that.” Wymack leaned forward with his hands clasped in his lap. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on with him, would you?” When Andrew resumed his silence, his boss shook his head. “The guy clearly needs help.”

Oh, if only the man knew.

“Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be the most enlightening conversation, but I figured I had to try,” Wymack complained as he stood up. “Remember, you stubborn little shit, if you need help it’s here. Just don’t do something too stupid without asking for it.”

Andrew gave him a slight salute before he finished his coffee.

Neil was swimming in a thick, black sweater that day but didn’t seem to be sporting any more make-up than usual, and made sure to stay away (out of arm’s length) from Andrew. He also didn’t appear smug or repulsed or anything other than indifferent, so Andrew was left with the impression that he still wasn’t aware of what all his mother did or the significance of his words yesterday.

It didn’t mean that Andrew wanted to punch the bastard any less.

He turned down an offer to eat lunch with Bee and Robin for some more ‘private’ time with Renee, only for her to fail once again in finding some sort of resolution. “I can’t afford an endless amount of new tires,” he warned as he sprawled out in the new ‘guest’ chair. “The whole ‘civil servant’ salary thing – not all of us have rich sugar mommas.”

Renee shot him a sour look before she resumed searching her email for something. “Allison isn’t my ‘sugar momma’, and I’m doing my best. I still haven’t found out anything on the wards Neil used against Jace Green or how he created them, and something tells me it’s going to take more than salt and cedar oil on our part.” She tugged on the cross around her neck a couple of times while she seemed to consider something. “Just how powerful is he?”

Andrew took the ‘he’ in question to be Neil Josten. “I don’t know, I seem to be a mere normal human of all things, not some sort of freak.”

That earned him another sour look. “There’s nothing ‘normal’ about you.”

“Oh, I’m _crushed_ ,” he declared while clutching at his chest. “Not that it helps us here. Just how difficult can it be, busting Casper on our own?”

That time the look directed his way was scathing. “Why don’t you try to build a space ship on your own?” When he did some ‘scathing’ of his own, Renee sighed. “A bit of an exaggeration, but not much. There’s just so much I don’t know and it’ll be a disaster if I try without that knowledge.”

He was certain that Casper would take advantage of their failure to strike at them, too. “Point taken, but we can’t just sit around doing nothing forever.” Casper would continue playing her ‘fun’ little games, and keep using Neil as a punching bag.

As much as Andrew was still furious over the man prying into his head and past… he refused to allow some damn ghost to abuse him like that.

“I know. God willing, something will show up soon.” Renee’s smile didn’t falter when Andrew made a rude noise over that bit of nonsense.

The rest of the week passed without incident (other than Renee’s car being ‘keyed’ up somehow), which left Andrew looking forward to the weekend even more than usual. On Friday, it was the meet-up at Eden’s for his and Aaron’s birthday celebration, which meant that he basically spent Saturday at home recovering and doing as much online research about ghosts and getting rid of them as he could, only to end up with a headache and not much else.

Why the hell did people post such useless shit on the internet? Also, he should have gone on incognito mode earlier, because now he was going to have a bunch of useless stuff be targeted at him whenever he tried to buy anything online.

(He hated to admit that Renee might be right about there being little information readily available on how to get rid of Casper.)

Sunday morning, he met up with Bee for brunch, a chance to get out of the apartment and to have some chocolate chip pancakes with hazelnut sauce at the one diner not too far from her house. “Is everything all right? You’ve seemed distracted lately,” she asked once their server left the table with their order.

Andrew considered the concern behind the question, how Bee did her best to balance being a good ‘mother’ with giving him and Aaron their space and shrugged once. “Renee and I are working on something together, but it’s not coming along so well.”

“Okay.” Bee nodded at his answer and didn’t push; she knew that he and Renee sparred together on a regular basis (or would once again in another week or two, now that his ribs were almost fully healed) and had more in common than was apparent at first glance. “Sorry to hear that you’re running into trouble on the project.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He was quiet as the server returned with their drinks. “Everything all right with you? No new accidents at work?” She’d healed from her run-in with Jace Green – no more bruises and the stitches gone from her hand, the only reminder of the incident a fading scar.

“Funny you ask that when David was curious about the same thing,” Bee remarked as she stirred the whipped cream into her mug of hot chocolate. “No, no trouble at work, at least for me.”

“Old man’s probably worried about a law suit, considering the wonky air conditioning and lights.” Andrew huffed a little as he added enough cream and sugar into his coffee; at least now he knew that Casper was leaving Bee alone, even if the dead bitch kept fucking with him and Renee.

“Why would he be worried about the wellbeing of his employees and the children in his care?” Bee asked in a mocking tone, then gave a gentle kick to Andrew’s right ankle when he asked ‘why indeed’. The rest of their meal followed the usual lines of them talking about Aaron and Nicky, discussing the merits of a book they were reading and the plans for Thanksgiving – it was a bit of normalcy in a life that had taken a rather odd turn lately.

Perhaps he should have gone into the back room with Roland at Eden’s on Friday, because there was a growing sense of frustration to sitting in a small room with an attractive bastard who seemed content to avoid him as much as possible. An attractive bastard nursing what looked to be a sore right side, with a sphere of frigid air around him almost all of the time.

A stupid, attractive bastard who couldn’t seem to accept the fact that his dead mother (or whatever) was an abusive bitch who needed to be put to rest once and for all. Andrew found himself wanting to shake sense into the man, only to catch himself before he moved and had a repeat of the whole ‘AJ’ incident.

Before he did more than _shake_ Neil, if the idiot picked his brain (his past) again.

Andrew was back in Renee’s office for lunch on Wednesday as they went through their (meager) notes yet again. “It says talking to them can sometimes help. Perhaps we can inflict Kevin on Casper? Have him argue with her about why she needs to move on?”

Renee gave him one of her ‘you’re not trying to be a good person’ looks then shook her head. “That only works if they don’t realize they’re dead, which something tells me isn’t the case here. No, we have to be a bit more forceful.” She paused to nibble on an apple slice as she stared at the laptop screen. “White flowers won’t work, either, considering how she’s destroyed the floral arrangements in my and Allison’s offices.”

“How about we threaten Neil unless she leaves?” That seemed drastic enough to Andrew and only fair.

“That’s… not a good idea.” Renee winced and shook her head hard enough to make her hair fan out almost vertical. “Not when she’s so protective of him.”

“Except when she’s hurting him,” Andrew pointed out before he had a bite of chocolate cookie.

“True.” Renee sighed as she pressed her left palm across the cross around her neck. “I don’t understand this ghost, which worries me. How do we anticipate her?”

He wanted to say that they didn’t, they just sent her off to hell where she belonged, but he understood Renee’s point. “We can’t keep dragging this out, not when she’s becoming more violent.” Sooner or later, she was going to hurt someone other than Neil or the two of them.

They were stuck on the whole ‘need more information’ thing, which was why he was surprised to find Renee knocking on his door shortly after he’d gotten home that evening; he’d barely had time to change his clothes and was debating if he wanted to make something for dinner or order out. “If you’ve come to your senses and dumped Reynolds, you can’t crash here. Go bother Dan and Matt,” he said after he opened the door to find her standing in the hallway.

“I so look forward to when you’re able to spar again,” Renee muttered as she stepped into his apartment. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Pity.” Andrew closed and locked the door behind her. “Don’t tell me you’ve found something out at last.”

“No.” Renee frowned as she removed her coat and folded it over her arms. “It’s… hmm.” Her dark eyes grew unfocused as she stared at the door he’d just closed. “Something told me I needed to be here tonight.”

Wonderful, how informative and a little disturbing, the whole ‘power’ thing. “Fine, you can help me with dinner,” Andrew told her as he motioned for her to hand over her coat, which he hung in the closet near the door then to follow him to the kitchen.

He’d just gotten a simple meal of stuffed shells in the oven (and no further answers out of an apologetic Renee over why she’d been compelled to show up on his doorstep other than a strong yet vague compulsion) when there was another knock on the door; his family knew better than to stop by out of the blue without calling or texting first so he gave Renee a curious look.

“I think this is why I’m here,” she said as she set aside her freshly brewed mug of tea.

“To help me hide a body?” He didn’t care for unwelcome visitors (he didn’t care for a lot of things).

“Just answer the door,” she told him with undue weariness as she pushed away from the counter.

That wasn’t a ‘no’ on hiding a body, he noted.

Checking the peephole, he found a disgruntled-looking, middle-aged man a few inches taller than him standing on the other side, dressed in an expensive coat. Not his usual visitor, and the man stared at the door as if aware that Andrew was standing on the other side.

Somewhat interesting.

“What do you want?” Andrew asked once he opened the door, mindful of Renee at his back and the blades on his arms.

“Andrew Minyard?” the man asked, his voice low and deep, roughened as if from too many cigarettes and possessive of a British accent which Andrew had heard creep into one Neil Josten’s voice a time or two. “And Renee Walker?”

“Who the hell are you?” Andrew asked with a hint of heat at having his initial question ignored.

The man folded his arms over his chest, an unimpressed expression on his face (there was something about it that teased at Andrew’s memory for some reason) and annoyance in his pale grey eyes. “Call me Stuart. As for what I want? I believe we have an interest in common, so let me in, why don’t you.”

Andrew bared his teeth in what someone might call a smile. “Not interested in British assholes.”

“Andrew, do it,” Renee said in a tight voice as she shuffled even closer to the door. “I think… you need to do it.”

“Listen to her, you ill-mannered git,” ‘Stuart’ said with a similar ‘smile’.

How lovely, betrayed by his bestie. Andrew gave Renee a narrow look before he refocused his attention on their guest. “Tell me about this ‘interest’ and I’ll consider it.”

The man was quiet for a moment while Renee appeared moments from throttling Andrew, of all things, then let out a harsh breath. “Neil Josten,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

Oh, well then. “That buys you a few minutes,” Andrew declared as he opened the door all the way. “Speak quickly before you’re thrown back out.”

“Why the _hell_ that boy had to move here, of all places,” the man muttered as he stalked inside, all the while glaring at Andrew. Once he was inside and the door was closed behind him, he took to studying Renee, who gazed back at him. “Oi, you’re the psychic stirring up trouble, aren’t you?”

All right then, that wasn’t what Andrew had expected to hear, and judging from how wide Renee’s eyes had just gone, neither had she.

“Who… who are you?” she asked as she clutched at her cross, her voice raspy with surprise.

“Yes, who indeed?” Andrew asked as he slipped free a knife and flipped it into the air; perhaps they’d be hiding a body after all.

To give him (not much) credit, Stuart didn’t appear fazed at all by the appearance of a weapon as he unbuttoned his coat. “I told you, call me Stuart.” When Andrew paused in flipping the knife, he huffed and made a jerking motion with his right hand. “Let’s just say that I have similar skills to Walker over there, so I pay attention when people make a fuss about ghosts and shite like that. I especially pay attention when they work with my nephew.”

“You’re related to Neil?” Renee asked as she stepped forward. “You’re his uncle? You can see ghosts, too?”

Stuart didn’t seem happy to be interrupted like that, judging from the sour twist to his lips – lips which were similar to Neil’s, now that Andrew knew the two men were related together. He could pick up on a couple of shared features (mouth, eyebrows, slim build and short stature, cowlick over the left temple), though Neil must take after another family member a good bit as well. “Yeah, I can see ghosts, which is why I’m here – to get you to shut up about it, and to help out.”

Andrew almost missed the knife and cut his fingers, which made him stop flipping it. “Let me see if I have this correctly – you’re here because Neil’s your nephew, you’re one of the weirdos who can see ghosts, and you want to help get rid of Casper? Does Neil know you’re here?”

Stuart mouthed the word ‘Casper’ while he removed his coat to reveal a grey suit beneath it (just as expensive), then gave a pensive look around the place. “I need a damn drink.”

“Oh, where are our manners?” Renee asked with a jolt. “Tea, coffee or something stronger?”

“Something stronger,” Stuart muttered as he draped the coat over the back of Andrew’s chair, while Andrew gave the two an unimpressed look at making themselves at home in _his_ apartment.

“This way.” Renee gave Andrew an apologetic smile as she led their ‘guest’ into the kitchen. “Uhm, _does_ Neil know you’re here?”

“No, and I’d rather it stays that way for the time being.” Stuart didn’t seem very impressed with the kitchen and chose to stand while Renee fetched some whiskey for him and Andrew. “How bad is it, the thing with- well, him and the spirit?”

“Ah, ah, our turn for questions,” Andrew insisted as he accepted the glass of alcohol from Renee. “You’re the one who shows up out of the blue, after all. If you can see ghosts and Neil’s your nephew, how come you don’t know about Casper, hmm?” Why was the man here if his nephew was in danger?

The question earned him another unimpressed look while Stuart sipped the whiskey then gazed at Renee. “He’s a norm, isn’t he? No talent whatsoever? Utterly useless?”

Andrew had the impression that he should feel insulted right then, especially when Renee winced a little while she picked up her mug of tea. “I wouldn’t say _useless_ , but yes, no talent. He knows about ghosts, though, and helped Neil with an exorcism.”

That provoked some quiet muttering from Stuart before he finished off the whiskey in a couple of quick sips. “It’s… complicated,” he told Andrew with a disgruntled frown after he set the empty glass aside, “I suspected about the spirit, especially these last few months after Neil moved away. He’s always been quiet and preferred to be by himself, to rely on the family as little as possible. I’d planned to come visit him, to try to catch him out with… with _her_ , then I heard about some exorcist in the same city where he lives looking for help with a poltergeist and I _knew_ it was tied to him even before I dug in deep enough to find out it was one of his coworkers.” He gave Renee a disgusted look. “Which really, have you ever heard of ‘subtlety’?”

Renee regarded him for several seconds over the rim of the mug. “It provided us with what we needed, didn’t it?”

“I’m dealing with incompetent children,” Stuart grumbled as he stomped over to grab the bottle of whiskey to refill his glass. “Tell me about- the ghost, what’s she doing? How’d you find out about her?”

He knew it was a ‘she’, how interesting, Andrew mused as he finished his own glass of whiskey. Was the man related to Casper, too? Sister-in-law? Sister? Yet he was willing to exorcise her, if he was here to ‘help’ them? “Oh, basically she tried to punch her way through my chest for me daring to touch Neil one day,” Andrew explained as he waited for Stuart to set the whiskey bottle back down, mindful not to let the man touch him ‘just in case’. “She’s been very rough with several others at work and destructive with the property… and she’s hurting Neil.”

That last bit made Stuart choke on his sip of whiskey and set the glass aside. “Hu-hurt ah- Neil? How? What’s she doing?”

“He’s shown up bruised,” Renee told him with a sorrowful look as she wrapped her arms around her chest, her right fingers pinched around the cross. “He tries to cover them up as much as possible and always has an excuse at hand.”

Stuart rubbed at his face, which distorted words which might have been ‘dammit, Mary’; when he dropped his hands, he appeared worn down and older. “Who all knows about the ghost, eh? The two of you and… who else?”

“Jean Moreau, a coworker. Neil got rid of a ghost that was tormenting him and they’ve become friends. As far as everyone else is concerned, there’s something strange going on at work, but they’ve not realized it’s because of the supernatural.” Renee unwrapped herself so she could make another cup of tea. “At least, as far as we know.”

“Wonderful, I do so love working with amateurs.” Stuart rubbed at the back of his neck while he gazed at the whiskey bottle before he shook his head. “From what you’re telling me, Neil’s dealt with at least one spirit and a couple of you know what he can do. I’m assuming that, ah, his spirit, or ghost knows about you, too?”

“Hence the ‘destructive’ part,” Andrew explained as he forwent the whiskey, too. “We made a deal that I’d be quiet about Casper as long as she stopped hurting the rest of our coworkers, which she’s barely abiding. She doesn’t take it well whenever Renee or I bring up that it’s time for her to go, though.”

“No, I imagine she wouldn’t.” Sadness crossed Stuart’s features for a couple of seconds, which strengthened Andrew’s suspicions that he did indeed know the ghost. “If I’m right about things, she’s been with… with Neil for the last several years, ever since she died, and they had an intense bond while she was alive.”

“I can imagine, judging how protective he is of her,” Renee agreed as she took a step closer to the man then seemed to think better of it. “And of how she’s so determined to keep people away from him. I’ve never seen a bond like the one between the two of them.”

“Yeah.” Stuart hunched his shoulders forward and stared off into the distance as if remembering something.

How nice, Andrew thought as he checked on the shells in the oven then slammed the door shut. “This is touching, but there’s a point to me letting the two of you invade my home, remember? Casper has to go bye-bye, so how are we doing this?” He turned around to lean against the counter by the oven. “Renee doesn’t know how to get rid of the bitch, so do you? Are you as powerful as your idiot nephew?”

Stuart snapped out of his daydream to glare while Renee shook her head in disbelief. “No wonder Mary tried to remove your rude spine, I would too.” Ah, so Casper’s name _was_ ‘Mary’. “Yes, I know how to get rid of ghosts, and show some respect for the dead, you rude wanker.”

“I don’t care about the fact that she’s dead, just that she’s hurt people and is messing with things she shouldn’t,” Andrew clarified as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left armband. “Especially when we work with children. She needs to be put down before something terrible happens.” He wasn’t above a good guilt trip now and then.

“She wouldn’t-“ Stuart seemed to think better about what he was about to say then sighed. “I’m here to put a stop to things, okay? To make sure that they’re done right. Send her on her way and help out… Neil.”

Andrew had the impression that there was a lot being left unsaid (such as the man’s last name, why he seemed to hesitate at times when mentioning Neil’s name, how Neil had managed to hide the fact that his mother was a ghost from the ‘family’ for so long, and that he hadn’t gone straight to Neil about Casper), but if it helped to get rid of Casper? Then he supposed he’d have to deal with the British bastard (and didn’t that raise some more questions about Neil?).

“Yes, let’s help the dear little liar, shall we?”

“Andrew,” Renee said in a warning manner. “This is what we want, to get rid of the ghost and make things safer for everyone.”

True, but there was something ‘off’ about ‘Uncle Stuart’, about the way he held himself, about the cut of his suit (which he didn’t completely unbutton the coat), about how he dismissed Andrew’s knives yet positioned himself to keep Andrew and Renee within sight at all times and just out of reach. There was something about the man which reminded Andrew of Renee (of _Natalie_ , to be precise)… of Andrew himself.

“Why did you come here?” he asked the man while Renee poured her tea. “Why not deal with Casper yourself?”

“Because I need Walker to stop sending out requests for help,” Stuart said through clenched teeth. “She has to stop drawing attention here and to Neil. If it gets out to the wrong people, it could be bad for him.”

“Why is that? Because he’s so powerful… or because of his other talent? The one with him reading-“

All right, so the old man could move, Andrew realized as he found himself pressed backwards over the counter with a gun to his left temple while he held one of his knives to Stuart’s throat and Renee backed him up with another knife (where had she hidden it?) to the man’s right kidney.

“Keep talking about that and I’ll blow your brains out, Yank,” Stuart snarled.

“Before or after you bleed out?”

“We go together.” Oh, was someone else protective of Neil?

“Can’t shoot the both of us,” Andrew reminded the bastard while his skin itched at someone being so close, as he fought the overwhelming urge to just _shove_ the knife into Stuart’s throat.

“She won’t live past the night,” Stuart swore, and something in those pale grey eyes of his, in that smoke-roughened voice, made Renee stiffen and Andrew believe the man’s words. “You two have no fucking idea who you’re dealing with right now, or how far we’ll go to protect… protect Neil.”

Renee shot Andrew a look over Stuart’s shoulder before she backed off, the knife disappearing after a quick flip. “We’ve no intention of threatening your nephew, I swear that to you. Our goal is to protect him, and I know how important it is to keep his powers a secret. My life is at stake here, too, you could say.” When Stuart didn’t move, she sighed. “Andrew, put away your weapon.”

He made a low growl deep in his throat before he moved the blade the slightest bit, and only lowered it when Stuart backed off at last. “Is his name even ‘Neil Josten’?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter to you, all that does is you’ll keep your mouth shut about what he can do if you want to keep living, and we’ll work together to get rid of Mary. Once she’s gone, Neil should come back with me,” Stuart told them, his motions stiff and voice bristling with animosity.

Renee twitched at that then stilled, her expression blank in a too-suspicious manner (not that Stuart would know) while Andrew scoffed as he returned the knife to his armband. “You can’t get rid of Casper by yourself, can you?” The man had pointedly refused answering that question. “You need us,” well, Renee, “to help you.”

For a moment, it looked as if Stuart would go for the gun he’d just returned to the shoulder holster beneath his suit coat while Renee muttered a prayer for patience beneath her breath. “If I didn’t need you, I’d have shot you already,” he admitted. “I’m not as powerful as Neil.”

“But you _can_ take care of the ghost, of Mary, right?” Renee asked in a soft tone of voice as she cradled the mug of tea between her hands. “You know what to do?”

“Yeah, I’ve handled dozens of spirits,” Stuart assured her. “For something as powerful as my- as Mary? It’ll take the two us while the git,” he motioned to Andrew, “distracts Neil.”

“Nice manners,” Andrew remarked as he fetched the shells from the oven; Stuart held up two fingers in a rude gesture. “Just for that, no dinner for you.”

“I’m heartbroken.” Stuart looked over at the dish full of cheese-stuffed pasta and grimaced. “The sooner we do this, the better. What have you planned up ‘til now?”

“Ah, just that it would be best to do it around work, where we could catch Neil and the ghost in a room somewhere,” Renee explained. “Perhaps you’d like to talk about it with me?” Her eyes lit up with excitement as she motioned toward the front door of Andrew’s apartment. “We’ve infringed on Andrew enough tonight, I’m sure we can find somewhere else to talk about the, uhm, technical details.”

“Yes, leave the ‘norms’ to eat in peace, you freaks,” Andrew agreed, and received another rude gesture for his consideration.

“Best thing I’ve heard since I got here.” Stuart sniffed as he left the kitchen with Renee in tow; Andrew sauntered after them to make sure they went away and so he could lock the door after them.

He ate his dinner and had a little more whiskey, and spent the evening pondering one ‘Uncle Stuart’ – unfortunately, ‘ponder’ was all he could do since he had no last name to go on to use in a search online in an attempt to track down Neil’s mysterious family. He remembered that there had been mention of ‘uncles’ in Neil’s personnel file, but no more information than that, and Wymack wouldn’t have pushed considering the touchy background of most of his ‘Foxes’.

That left Andrew with Neil supposedly having an uncle or two (more than ‘supposedly’ considering the resemblance between Neil and Stuart, and that Renee bought Stuart’s story) who were involved in some shady business, considering how Stuart had calmly pulled a gun and threatened Andrew’s and Renee’s lives. There was also Neil’s comment about his father, about his mother protecting him, which made one wonder about Neil’s childhood.

Renee kept saying that people like her and Neil were ‘rare’, and if Stuart could see ghosts, was it a family trait? Had Neil’s talents impacted his childhood somehow? Was that why Casper (Mary) was so protective of him?

Andrew hated it when he had more questions than answers, when they whirled around in his brain and refused to give him any peace… but it was better than old, familiar nightmares chasing after him into sleep, he supposed.

He had to do his best not to stare after Neil at work the next day, to compare his coworker to the British bastard who’d shown up at his door, to look for the hint of pale color lurking behind dark contacts. He wondered which accent was real, Neil’s bland American one or the not quite ‘posh’ British one (Andrew wasn’t an expert on accents, but it wasn’t the fancy one in the movies or shows which Nicky liked, but it wasn’t one of the thick, often hard to decipher versions, either), and hated that he wasted energy dwelling on it.

Renee showed up with bakery muffins during a break between their cases. “I know you don’t like him, but Stuart… he knows a lot,” she said once the door was closed and they were seated around his desk.

“Did you get any more information out of him?” Andrew asked while he picked two chocolate muffins out of the box.

“In regards to how we’re going to get rid of the ghost? Yes. About him? No.” Renee gave him one of her apologetic smiles. “He’s being very close-lipped about anything personal, much like Neil. All he told me is that he and Neil come from a long line of people with the ability to see spirts, which explains why Neil’s so powerful, and that Neil’s lived on his own with his mother for most of his life.” Her expression grew thoughtful as she reached for a blueberry muffin. “I get the impression that there’s a lot that went on with Neil and his mother, something not good, but Stuart’s not going to trust strangers like us anymore than he has to, especially when he thinks he can just get rid of the ghost and then take Neil back to the UK with him.”

Yes, Andrew had noticed that comment the night before, and Renee’s reaction to it. “But you don’t think that’s going to happen.”

She was quiet as she broke apart the muffin. “No, I don’t, not when from what I’ve seen, Neil’s future is here.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

“If this is more of your ‘the two of you have a future together’ bullshit, I will pick you up, as distasteful as that is, and throw you out of here,” Andrew warned before tossing a bite of muffin into his mouth.

“I see what I see,” was all Renee said before she continued. “We mostly talked about what to do about the ghost, Mary. I’m going to stay late tonight and Stuart will join me so we can get things ready for tomorrow.”

Andrew continued to give her a narrow look for a few more seconds before he grunted. “That’s quick.”

“We don’t want to waste any time, especially since she’s hurting Neil.” Renee frowned at the muffin in her hand then set it aside as if she wasn’t hungry anymore. “Stuart was rather insistent on that, on saving him as quickly as possible.”

Oh, sure, they could throw caution to the wind if it was for _Neil_. “And how are you going to get him to stick around?”

“I’ll ask Wymack,” Renee said as she stood up. “If I tell him it’s for a good reason, he’ll come up with some excuse to make Neil stay and to get him into the room we prep for him.”

The annoying part? The old man would do it for Renee, no questions asked, where he’d all but pull out the lie detector while quizzing Andrew on his motives.

Left disgruntled by the conversation, Andrew finished off the muffins after Renee went away, and let Aaron drag him out for lunch as a distraction. When he left work for the day, he pointedly ignored Neil on his way to the car, and the spot of cold in the one hallway.

One more day.

Renee appeared tired the next day as if she’d been up for most of the night, but there was also a blissful smile on her face when she greeted Andrew. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when she stopped by his office around lunch and offered up a vial of cedar oil.

“You get it on with Neil’s uncle or what?”

She wrinkled her nose at the insinuation and sighed. “I learned a lot from him, though he won’t tell me how to make the paste he used to create the wards.” She cocked her head to the side and hummed a little. “Maybe Neil will, one day.”

Right, she could ask him via email, and see if he ever forgave her enough for what she was about to do to respond, Andrew thought as he tapped the bottle of oil against the surface of his desk. “So I get to splash this around again?”

“Yes, after you put this on Neil.” Renee reached into the front pocket of her pale yellow cardigan to hand over something carefully wrapped in thick, white cloth. “Make sure it doesn’t come in contact with your skin, but it does with his,” she explained. “Stuart said it should distract him long enough for us to do something about Mary.”

Andrew gazed at the swaddled object for a couple of seconds before he placed it on his desk with care. “The bitch will be gone tonight?”

Renee winced as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her sweater. “She may be destructive and caused us some grief… but she’s Neil’s mother and she stuck around to protect him, can’t you remember that?”

He gave her a flat look over that ludicrous statement. “The _bitch_ will be gone, _yes_?”

She sighed once more. “Yes, she’ll be gone.”

“Good. Now, sandwiches or pizza?” he asked in regards to lunch.

“Sandwiches would be best, the usual for me.” Renee sat down as she pulled out her own phone. “Let’s go over everything for this evening so we’re prepared.”

Oh what fun, Andrew thought as he placed their order, even though getting rid of Casper and one too-distracting Neil Josten was worth putting up with this shit.

*******

Neil sighed as he took in the holiday decorations at the store; he’d been so pleased to get past Halloween that he hadn’t thought about what came after it, hadn’t realized that it would be right into Thanksgiving since he was in the States with Christmas soon afterwards.

That everywhere he’d go would be packed with people doing their shopping and holiday prep, that they’d be stressed and upset and depressed for the most part (with a few exceptions filled with the fabled ‘holiday cheer’ – a _few_ ), would be in such a hurry that they wouldn’t care who they bumped into, wouldn’t care about what they touched and… and….

He _hated_ the holidays.

Shoulders hunched up around his neck, he concentrated on getting the items he needed as quickly as possible while Mary muttered about rude Yanks all the while, cold air an invisible shield around him as he stocked up on some things so he wouldn’t have to come back any time soon. He’d have to plan things carefully in the next couple of months, to avoid shopping on the worst weeks nearest the holidays and rely on take-away, if necessary.

Mary shoved some middle-aged man who wasn’t paying attention and nearly backed into him face-first into a freezer full of vegetables, and Neil couldn’t find it in himself to care for once. Nor when she rammed aside two women too busy talking about some ‘amazing’ gluten-free recipe one of them had discovered rather than move their carts out of his way when he approached; it was just going to get worse day after day until after the new year.

It made him wish he could hide away until the holidays were over.

“Stuart and the rest will probably be on me to go back for Christmas,” Neil remarked once they were in the car. “Aunt Miriam mentioned something a while ago, about me being in London for the holidays.”

Mary produced a sharp hissing sound while the windows of the car start to fog up; Neil had to hurry to turn on the defroster. / _Meddling slag_./

He was surprised by the insult against his aunt, who had always treated him well, but knew better by now than to try to defend the woman. “I’ll tell the family that Jean and the others invited me to spend the holidays here.” It might even be true by then, considering how often everyone at work invited him to things for the weekend and at lunch.

/ _They’re all meddlers, you don’t need them interfering in your life_./ Still, Mary seemed appeased with the plan and calmed down for the rest of the ride.

Neil was grateful when no one from the family called that night; it had been a few days since he’d heard from Stuart, so he was overdue a call from his uncle, at the least. Perhaps the man had been sent out of town to handle a difficult task for the family.

Whatever the reason, Neil wasn’t going to complain about a break from his uncle’s questions on if he was doing all right, hanging out with friends instead of being by himself all of the time, and the dropped hints about coming for an unwanted visit.

Why was it when he was content with things, people had to interfere and try to take away the bit of happiness he’d found?

He was beginning to find work draining due to being constantly on guard with Minyard and Walker, to watching after his mother all of the time to ensure that she didn’t lash out at anyone. At least he had his lunches with Jean, a small bit of normalcy when he could sit down and talk with another person.

“ _You appear tired_.”

Neil shrugged while he peeled an orange. “ _Not the best night for sleep_.” He’d dreamed about his father last night, about being trapped in the basement in the house in Baltimore.

“Ah.” Jean frowned as he stirred his soup. “ _Jeremy is taking me out to dinner tonight, but if you’d like… there’s a theatre showing some Olivier Assayas films this weekend. Perhaps we can watch a couple on Saturday_?”

Neil smiled at the offer yet shook his head when he felt his mother shift closer. “ _Another time. Right now… there’s a lot going on_.” Mary would never tolerate him in a movie theater surrounded by strangers in her current mood, not without something bad happening.

“ _Let me know when_.” Jean held his gaze until Neil nodded. “ _And be aware that Kevin tries to put together a baseball team each spring, so prepare your excuse soon_.”

“ _Oh hell, **not** baseball_.” Neil grimaced as he flicked an orange peel aside. “ _He takes his job too seriously_.”

Jean hummed in agreement, and they spent the rest of their break talking about their fellow coworkers (with Mary adding snide comments from time to time), which helped to make the day bearable for Neil.

That was, until he ended up having to stay late to complete a bunch of documents related to language assessments which he never knew he had to do. It wasn’t like he had anything planned that night other than maybe get a run in before it grew dark and then study Persian some more, just that the task was dumped on him last minute when he’d been looking forward to escaping work.

Then, when he was finally finished, Wymack caught him as he was locking up his office. “Hey, sorry to ask this of you but you’re the only one left and just the right size. I need something that fell behind an old shelf and my arm’s too big to fetch it.” He held up his right arm, which was much larger than Neil’s due to thicker bones and layers of muscles wrapped around them.

An arm strong enough to hurt him, to cause bruises and break bones, to hold him down while its owner inflicted pain… except Mary there was there to keep him safe, so Neil gave a curt nod while he made certain to keep out of Wymack’s reach. “All right.” He clutched at the messenger bag slung across his chest while Mary muttered about uncouth Americans in his head.

Wymack led him to an area of the building which seemed to be used for storage then motioned to one of the rooms before he opened the door. “It’s behind the one shelf back there, an old file,” the man called out as he stood by the entrance and flicked on a light. “See if you can get it, will you?”

Neil skirted around the man and stepped into the room, which only had an old filing cabinet and a heavy, old wooden half-shelf several feet long against the far back wall. He was halfway into the room when Mary let out a furious screech which made him hunch over, right around when the door slammed shut.

/ _Wards! There’s fucking wards on the walls_!/

Head aching from his mother’s anger and shouting, Neil threw aside the bag as he spun around, gaze intent on the walls and ceiling while he searched for signs of Renee’s wards, for the small plaques he’d seen in Jean’s art room. “But… but there’s nothing there!” No small crafted anchors with the Christian symbols, nothing for her to use for her power.

/ _Something’s blocking me, locking me in… it’s… it’s… **Hatford**_!/ Mary hissed as the filing cabinet slammed into the far wall. / ** _Hatford_** _wards_!/

That announcement stunned Neil long enough to keep him from the door, to crossing the room and seeing if he could open it (pick it, break it open) then find something to undo the wards on the wall (water, fire, _something_ ) when the damn thing opened to admit two people who didn’t surprise him and one who _did_ : Andrew Minyard, Renee Walker and Uncle Stuart.

“How?” he asked, his voice raw as Mary screeched and raced across the room, only to be stopped short on her deadly rampage by Stuart throwing what was probably a mix of salt and iron in her path. “How could you?”

Stuart’s jaw clenched while Renee all but gaped at Neil and Mary. “She’s _dead_ , Ab- Neil. You should have left her back in California, should have let her go.”

“She came _back_ for me,” Neil shouted at his uncle as he scrambled for the file cabinet for more drawers to throw or _something_ , desperate for some sort of weapon (why couldn’t he bring a damn gun to work?). “She’s the only one who’s been there for me, is the only one I can trust!”

/ _See, Abram? I always told you that you couldn’t trust the Hatfords, that they only want to use us for our talents. This is why we run, why it’s only good, the two of us_ ,/ Mary screamed as she grabbed a drawer from the file cabinet and threw it at the betraying bastards – only for Minyard to bat it aside with a muttered curse.

“What lies have you told him? For _fuck’s sake_ , Mary!” Stuart threw more of the salt mixture at his sister while Walker called out to Minyard.

/ _You only want him for his power, it’s **always** about power with the family! You’ll use him, you’ll control him and lock him away, like you tried with me! I’ll break your neck for trying to do that, I’ll kill all three of you and take him far away_!/ Mary was a vortex of glittering silver shards as she confronted her brother, bright enough to blind, while the room grew cold enough for frost to form on the walls, for each breath to hurt; Neil’s attention was torn between his mother and uncle, and his coworkers off to the side. Mary’s attention was focused solely on her brother, who cursed her out as he flung the salt mix her way.

Which was why when Andrew flung cedar oil on Mary as well to make her shift away from Neil, Neil reacted a second too late to realize that Andrew wanted his mother to move so he could get at _Neil_ and not to join in on hurting her as well, and left himself open for something.

Something which tore his mind apart as memories poured in, memories of being trapped in a tiny dark room which stank of fear and piss and blood, his small, broken body curled into a ball as he waited for _her_ to come back, for more of the same ( _abuseabuseabuseabuse_ ), as his throat grew tighter and dryer and stomach cramped from hunger and the blood dried and-

-and he wrenched himself away from the terrible thing while he threw up the remains of lunch and afternoon tea in his stomach, skin crawling and body aching from phantom injuries, fingers curled and legs giving way from imaginary breaks while Mary wailed against what Stuart and Walker were doing to her.

“No,” Neil coughed out as he struggled to go to her, to stop them, yet Andrew - Minyard stood in his way, the damn artifact (a belt buckle?) held brandished in Neil’s direction.

“Let them do it, she’s done,” Andrew said in that deadpan manner of his.

“ _No_!” Neil winced at how weak that had come out. “She’s… she’s always been there for me, I can’t let her down.” She was all he had.

/ ** _Abram_** _! You can’t take him from me, you fekking pillock_!/

“She’s _dead_ ,” Andrew spit out. “She shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“You don’t….” Neil wanted to say that Andrew didn’t understand, but there had been the flashes of pain, of something dark and awful when he’d touched the other man, something desperate focused on Andrew’s family… “We only have each other,” he tried to explain as he heaved himself up onto his knees.

“You mean _she_ only has you. What you have is an abusive relationship with the undead, which ends tonight.” Minyard gestured with the artifact again as if to show that he’d use it against Neil if necessary before he flung more oil on an even more fractured Mary while Stuart and Walker chanted about casting Mary out.

/ ** _Ah-Abram_**!/

Neil tried to stand up, to go to her while her anguished voice filled his head, but Andrew blocked him once more, and then he couldn’t breathe, it was so cold, was like the one night in Hamburg when their stolen car had broken down and Mary ( _Alina_ ) had killed the one guy following them after Neil ( _Eike_ ) had stabbed the other and-

Neil moaned as his mother’s voice grew loud enough to nearly make him pass out, as even Andrew and Walker reacted, and her form burst into tiny sparks which scattered around the room then slowly faded away. An intense panic filled him as he watched them disappear, as the cold began to give way to warmth… as he realized that she was _gone_.

“No. _Nononono **no**_!” He finally managed to stand up, and that time Andrew didn’t stop him. “No, bring her back!” He staggered toward Stuart, who appeared drained as he lowered hands covered with iron rings. “Bring her back, dammit!”

“Ah- kiddo,” Stuart said, his voice just as hoarse. “You know I can’t, she’s gone, she’s finally gone.” He caught at Neil’s fists and remorse/pain/concern washed into him, along with flashes of memory: images of Mary as a child, as a teenager, as a defiant young woman and then of those days back in London after she’d taken Neil ( _Nathaniel_ ) and fled Baltimore, of Neil ( _Abram_ ) when he’d gone to his uncles after that night in California.

Of Stuart plotting with Walker and Andrew.

“Come now,” Stuart said in a quiet voice, in a tone that was probably meant to be soothing. “We’ll go pack your things and take you home. You need-“

“ ** _No_** ,” Neil hissed as he pulled free and swayed on his feet in an effort to remain standing. “Go to hell, I want nothing to do with you, you took her away from me.” He glared at Andrew and Walker as well. “All of you, you took away the only thing I had.”

“We took away an abusive bitch who was hurting you,” Andrew said in that emotionless manner of his while Renee flinched as if in pain.

Something stirred inside of Neil, some gained memory, while he shook his head. “Yeah, that’s why you bear all those scars you hide, right? Because you weren’t willing to give something up even though it was so _good_ for you?” He felt his father’s smile creep over his face when Andrew took a deliberate step toward him with clenched fists, only to be stopped by Renee grabbing the back of his shirt and Stuart pulling a gun.

“Fuck all of you,” he told them as he bent over to grab his bag, which contained the keys to his car and flat. “Stay the hell away from me, not that there’s anything else left for you to take away.”

“Kiddo,” Stuart pleaded as he made to reach out for Neil with the hand not holding the gun, only to stop when he saw the expression on Neil’s face.

“I mean it.” Neil stepped around him on his way to the door and left the room without a backward glance.

He wasn’t surprised to find Wymack outside in the hallway and didn’t spare the man a look, either. “Bother me in the next few days and I’ll turn in my notice,” was all he said as he made his way to the nearest exit, intent on reaching his flat as quickly as possible. To be somewhere he could lock the doors and barricade himself inside, to block out the world.

Except once there he’d be alone, all alone, for the first time in his life.

His mother wasn’t coming back this time, was gone forever.

There no longer was the familiar coldness around him, but inside him, a gaping iciness that took over everything and left him numb to the world.

******

It was quiet for about a minute after Neil had his hissy fit and left, then Stuart took to cursing beneath his breath while rubbing at his face; he’d at least put the damn gun away (Renee must have snuck him in through the back to get him past the metal detector) so between the lack of a weapon and the grief on his face, he didn’t appear like a dangerous thug anymore.

No, more like a broken man who’d basically been disowned by his own family after doing something difficult for them.

That was life.

Andrew turned toward Renee, who appeared tired and upset, and gave her a displeased look. “Don’t hold me back like that again,” he warned, in reference to her keeping him from going after Neil for what he’d said.

“He was lashing out because we hurt him,” she explained. “You used his talent against him, he used it against you in return.” Darkness flashed in her eyes as she gazed at Stuart. “Speaking of which, you told me that the item was something that would remind Neil about better times with his mother,” she called out.

The question seemed to break Stuart from his cursing spell; he paused to light a cigarette, uncaring about the fact that he was inside a building, then came over to the two of them and motioned for the buckle that Andrew still held wrapped in a cloth. “I lied, so what?” When Andrew handed it over, the older man gazed at the item with blatant disgust for a moment before he shoved it into a pocket of his coat, while Renee watched on with disapproval. “You think there ever was such a thing? From the moment Neil was born… ‘nightmare’ is an understatement, that kid’s childhood,” Stuart said as he breathed out a thick plume of smoke, his face twisted with anger. “There was nothing but abuse and fear, with Mary being the one constant he had through all of it.” He let out a bitter bark of laughter as he glanced around the room, at the glittering salt scattered around, the knocked over filing cabinet. “No wonder Mary could never let go of him, not after everything they suffered, and no wonder he clung on to her so hard and believed everything she said.” He closed his eyes and took a deep drag from the cigarette before letting it out in a slow stream of smoke, his weary gaze fixed on Renee. “So yeah, I could search the world for a thousand years and never find a damn thing which would contain any good memories for him. Instead I used something that would knock him for a loop. Those are a dime a dozen.”

It sounded as if Neil had an absolutely shitty childhood, what a surprise. Perhaps Andrew could work up an iota of sympathy for him if his left arm didn’t ache from blocking a damn metal drawer and the freak hadn’t done more of his mind trickery bullshit.

“You shouldn’t have lied,” Renee argued, ever the bleeding heart saint. “We hurt him enough today, we didn’t need to add on to the betrayals.”

Stuart gazed at her as if she was crazy, which wasn’t far from the mark. “Darling, you are….” He let out a slow breath and shook his head. “Knowing… knowing Neil, odds are even that he’ll pack up everything he owns and make a run for it or stick around just to prove how much of a stubborn bastard he is.” Despite the situation, there was a fond quirk to the right corner of the man’s mouth. “If he sticks around? I’ll need help keeping an eye on him until the family can make him understand that we aren’t trying to control him and undo some of the lies that his mother told him.” He gave a pointed look at Andrew and Renee.

Oh, this evening just kept getting better and better. “Why should we bother? This mess is all on you in the first place,” Andrew stated before Renee could offer their help. “You should have sent your sister packing long ago before she became such a nuisance.” Before one ‘Neil Josten’ came barreling into Andrew’s life.

Stuart’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he jabbed the cigarette held between the first two fingers in his right hand in Andrew’s direction. “I’d like to see what you’d do if your brother or that foster mother of yours died after something terrible happened to them. Would you be so quick to cast away the last little bit of them that you had left?” His belligerence gave way to grief as he stared at the thick, grey rings on his fingers. “It took us a while to comprehend that she came back that way, that we hadn’t entirely lost her, and then to realize her effect on… on Neil. As much as we hated to admit it, we knew what we needed to do.” He looked at Andrew once more. “Could you do it?”

Andrew thought about losing, utterly losing, Bee or Aaron as he rubbed along his sore left arm and fought the urge to slip free a knife to stab at… at what? Some nebulous threat against them? “If they hurt other people, then yes, I would.” He wouldn’t allow some shade of them to harm Nicky or the rest of his family, to go after innocents; that would no longer be Bee, after all, no longer would be Aaron.

“Yeah, but you’d be fine with it up until then,” Stuart argued. “You’d hold on to them as long as you could, just like we did.”

Before Andrew could refute that, Renee spoke up. “I’ll help Neil, of course I will. You taught me some important things, it’s the least I can do, that and he needs someone right now.” Then she gave Andrew a pointed look as if expecting something from him.

He really needed to make better friends – scratch that, he needed to _not_ have any friends. “You’re reimbursing me for the damage your sister did to my car and my office,” he told Stuart, who seemed to have plenty of money if his fancy suits were anything to go by, “and I’ll make sure your idiot nephew doesn’t do anything too stupid if he sticks around.” With luck, Neil would be halfway out of the state right now – but Andrew had never been very lucky, had he?

“It’s a deal,” Stuart agreed as he dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with the toe of his fancy dress shoes (oh yes, he was indeed reimbursing Andrew for the damage Casper had done in the last few weeks).

They finally left the room (Andrew was growing sick of the scent of cedar oil), and found Wymack leaning against one of the walls out in the hallway. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Wymack gave Andrew an exasperated look before focusing on Renee. “Is it done?”

“Yes,” she told him with a slight smile, her hands wrapped around the strap of the bag slung across her chest.

“Because you told me that you were doing something tonight that would put an end to all the weird shit happening around here, would make things better.” He pushed away from the wall in a rush, which made both Andrew and Stuart start. “Maybe there won’t be anymore messes in the rooms or stuff breaking, but Neil left looking wrecked, so I don’t count that as ‘better’, you understand?” he told them with a stern expression. “I get the impression he won’t be back for a few days, at least.”

Renee sighed as she tucked aside a strand of hair. “You could say that he… he needs a few days of bereavement leave.” Stuart twitched at that while Andrew huffed. “It needed done, sir.”

Wymack continued to gaze at her for several seconds before he let out a slow breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. “So you say, but we’ll see next week, won’t we?” He treated Stuart with a cool look before he jerked his right thumb at the nearest exit. “Go on, get out of here.”

Andrew lit up a cigarette once they were outside and half expected to find his car fucked with, considering how angry Neil had been over the whole ‘Casper’ thing. There was no sign of Neil’s ratty hatchback or damage to the remaining vehicles in the parking lot, so he gestured to Stuart a few feet from the GS. “You owe me-“

“I know,” the British man cut him off. “You’ll get it, someone will send it and anything else you need within a few days.” He gave a polite nod to Renee before he stalked over to a Mercedes sedan in a clear sign that he was done with them for the time being.

Andrew arched an eyebrow as he glanced at Renee, who’d pulled out her phone and was texting someone, probably Reynolds. “He’ll honor his part of the agreement, Neil is too important to him,” she said.

Which implied that they’d have to hold up their end of the bargain. “That’s if Josten bothers to stick around.” Fifty-fifty, those were the odds.

“He will.” Renee looked up as she put the phone away. “And he’s going to need our help, Andrew. We took something very important away from him, even if it had to be done. We did this, so we’ll see through its consequences.”

He clicked his tongue while he flicked ash aside. “I signed up to get rid of a destructive ghost, not to babysit.” When Renee continued with that judgmental stare of hers, he clicked his tongue again. “Fine, but only to a point.” He wouldn’t let Josten become an inconvenience.

“Thank you. One day Neil will appreciate your efforts, you’ll see.” Renee did that beaming shit of hers while she fished out her car keys from her purse. “Have a good weekend.”

“It’ll get a whole lot better if I find out that Neil Josten left town.”

Renee merely hummed as she waved goodbye to him.

Right, somehow he knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. Really, what all would he have to do when it came down to babysitting Neil Josten? Keep him from latching on to any other ghosts? Not play in heavy traffic? The occasional update to British assholes? That should be doable.

Then in a few months shove the idiot onto the first available plane to the UK and Andrew could wash his hands of the pest.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So, some important things happened here, yes? Mary... STUART. 
> 
> It's not the end of the fic. OH NO. OMFG NO. *whimpers* This is but one plot thread resolved, and like two or three or more which start. I've 90 or so pages done already and it's NOWHERE NEAR FINISHED. 
> 
> I need to stop doing this to myself. I'm PRETTY CERTAIN it won't be as long as RP/WDWG though. Yeah. *sighs*
> 
> Anyway, new chapter. Lot going on. Thank you so much for still reading, and any comments/kudos.


	6. Learn to Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* My notes just got eaten, let's try this again.
> 
> Okay, so far, still on track for biweekly updates. That said, here's another chapter, where we move the plot along a bit.
> 
> Warnings? Brief mention of suicidal thoughts (nothing happens), and of Neil's childhood in Baltimore as well as Andrew's with the Spears (nothing graphic) as well as bodily harm (again, very brief). Any questions/concerns, I'm on tumblr as @nekojtachan.
> 
> Much thanks to @fall-for-the-game for the beta!  
> *******

*******

Neil stared at the duffel bag on his bed; it wasn’t the same one he’d used during the years on the run from his father, the battered nylon bag which had traveled all over Europe and North America until he’d made that call to Uncle Stuart in northern California, but a suede bag that Jamie had bought him in London. It would hold a good bit of his belongings and the rest would fit in his messenger bag, enough to see him through however long it took for him to find a place to settle down. He no longer had the binder full of bonds and fake IDs and colored contacts and notes, either – the bonds had long been converted into a bank account in his name, and all the relevant information jotted down into a notebook which was kept in the safe tucked back in the bedroom closet.

He could make a run for it, drain the accounts in his name dry, hit up the stashes here in the States while on his way to one of his mother’s contacts for a new ID or two… but Stuart and the family were probably watching him, waiting for him to do just that. One of the first things Neil had done upon returning to his flat was to block his uncle on his phone (a temporary measure unless he changed the number, and even then the family could still track him down as long as he stuck around), and he deleted any message or voicemail the rest of the Hatfords left for him. He also ignored the knocks on his front door.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone who wasn’t his mother… and that wasn’t going to happen anymore, would it?

For several seconds the urge was so strong to pack what he’d need: several changes of clothes, all the cash he had on hand, enough contacts to last a while, some hair dye, his weapons, the phone and laptop, some food and then just _run_. However, it would be best if he planned it out, if he waited a while longer (waited until spring). That would give him time to test the waters, to hit up the accounts which he was sure the Hatfords monitored to see if they’d react to him tapping them for money here or there, just in case they attempted to block him from any withdrawals.

It was clear he couldn’t trust the family anymore.

There had only been one person he _could_ trust and she was gone, had been taken from him. He should have listened to her when she told him to run.

She’d died for him and come back, had put herself between him and his father, had run over half the world in an effort to keep him safe, and he’d let her down. That was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life, a guilt he would always bear.

For four days he sat in the flat with the windows open and the heat turned down, the closest approximation he could get to the cold which had always heralded his mother’s presence, and drank tea while he stared at the empty mug set out for someone who wasn’t there and never would be again.

Then he forced himself to get dressed and leave the flat without anyone at his back, without a comforting voice in his head assuring him that he was all right, that no one would touch him, would harm him, that he was safe as long as she was there. His skin crawled and his heart raced anytime someone came near, but it was something he’d have to grow used to, wasn’t it? It was his new life.

When the metal detector went off near the front doors at work, he held up his hands to show Wymack the three iron rings he wore, his gaze steady while he lied with ease and swore that was what had set the machine off (well, partially lied), and was waved inside the building after a few seconds’ consideration and a curt nod. There wasn’t any sense of guilt over the knife tucked into his right pocket.

He had to protect himself now, after all, since the people here had robbed him of the one who’d always sought to keep him safe.

There were anxious inquiries in the break room about how he was from Matt and Dan and Nicky, but all Neil did was give them a cool ‘I’m fine’ and then ignore them as he put away his lunch and fixed himself some tea. Concern, confusion and something even resembling hurt flickered over their faces, but he wasn’t at Palmetto Services to be their friend, just to work. Some of the people here had already betrayed him in the worst possible way, he wasn’t going to allow the rest to hurt him again.

Once his tea was in hand, he retreated to his office, locked the door behind him, put in the earphones he used while running and ignored everything but a couple of messages from Jean and caught up on the work he’d missed.

When it came time for Peter Minkins’s session, Neil waited until the last possible minute to go the room, unwilling to deal with Andrew Minyard any longer than necessary. Once in it, he focused his attention solely on Peter, sitting as far from Andrew as possible and never looking at the man while translating.

When Abby entered the room to retrieve Peter, Neil merely got up and left, much to the woman’s surprise.

Jean came to his office with both of their lunches. “ _There’s been much talk about you_ ,” his friend said once he set Neil’s paper bag down on the desk. “ _You being out the last two days and then your behavior today_.”

“ _I don’t care_ ,” Neil admitted as he reached for the bag, and bit back on a sigh when he felt Jean’s concern upon touching it. “ _I just want to be left alone_.”

Jean nodded in acceptance. “ _Renee… she told me what she did, her and Minyard. I am sorry_.” He gave Neil a long look before he bowed his head and opened his own lunch bag. “ _I know things were different with you and your… well, it was different_.”

The thing is, he believed Jean right then; his friend had disapproved of the bruises which Neil had hidden, the bruises left by Mary, but he’d accepted it when Neil had told him that Mary was there to protect him, that he ‘allowed’ her to remain because she was family and looked after him, unlike Jean’s Riko.

“ _She still interfered_ ,” Neil spat out as he stared down at his sandwich, his stomach twisted painfully for a moment before he took a deep breath and picked it up; he needed to eat something. “ _They both did_.”

“ _They thought they were helping, that’s what Renee told me_.” Jean shrugged to show that he was merely repeating the woman’s words. “ _Regardless, it’s done, and I’m sorry for your loss_.”

“ _It won’t bring her back_ ,” Neil said once he swallowed the bite he’d managed to take. “ _They’d best leave me alone_.”

Jean regarded him for a few more seconds before he nodded once and changed the subject to where Jeremy had taken him to dinner on Friday night.

Neil supposed it might be best to block out even Jean, but it helped to have at least one person he could talk to at work, one person he could rely upon for information and advice, who could tell the others to leave him alone. He’d just be careful how much he trusted the man during his remaining time in Columbia.

*******

Andrew sat at the table and fidgeted with his pen as Peter spoke in Russian, his gaze fixed on Neil; it had been almost two weeks since Casper (Mary) had gone bye-bye, and Neil still gave everyone but Moreau the cold shoulder.

The rude bastard still acted as if Andrew was invisible (as if he was a ghost, ha ha) and either didn’t look at him or stared right through him, didn’t speak to him at all. When Peter fell quiet, Neil translated the boy’s words into English as if speaking out loud to an empty room, and didn’t look at Andrew when he responded to what had been said.

It bothered Andrew, that he grew annoyed over the childish antics.

There weren’t any more hidden bruises on Neil’s skin, but one was lucky if they caught sight of anything other than the tips of his fingers or face, and he appeared worn out with dark circles beneath his eyes. Renee had told Andrew that the idiot had turned down the clothes that Allison had bought for him with a flat ‘no’, not bothering with more explanation than that.

He wasn’t saying much else than ‘no’ to anyone, in fact.

The session came to an end, and as soon as Abby showed up, Neil was on his feet and out the door as if he found it distasteful to remain in the room a second longer. Peter cast a confused look his way, which Abby was quick to catch and distract the boy, while Andrew slowly gathered up his belongings.

Once out of the room, he hesitated for a moment before he decided to confront the monster in its lair, so to speak. He went to Neil’s office and gave the closed door several knocks, a frown forming on his lips when there was no response. His annoyance growing at being ignored, he tried the doorknob and found it locked; there was a chance that Neil was elsewhere, but Andrew had passed the break room and hadn’t seen the man in there. “Come out to play,” he shouted while he continued to pound on the door.

After about half a minute, Jeremy Knox came out of his office next door to give Andrew a disgruntled look. “Will you stop that? I’m trying to put together a new lesson plan for the kids.”

“And I’m trying to talk to Josten.”

Knox folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door jam. “He probably has his headphones in, it helps him to focus on work. Everyone knows that if they want to stop by to talk to him, to send him an email first.”

Well, everyone but Andrew, it seemed. He gave the door a kick for the hell of it before he walked away to find someone who didn’t need an RSVP to talk. Renee was in her office, hair pulled back with bright pink barrettes as she read something on her laptop screen. “Andrew, how are you?” she asked as he sat down uninvited.

“Josten’s being an asshole,” he said without preamble as he picked at the hem of his black jeans.

“Well, we did exorcise his mother, did you really think he was going to be happy about that?” Renee asked as her smile faded into something much less cheerful. “Though I thought he’d contain his anger at us, not direct it to almost everyone at work.”

“Hence why he’s an asshole,” Andrew clarified. “He acts like I’m not there.” It was unprofessional, that was all.

“It’s much the same with me, he won’t speak to me at all.” Renee sounded frustrated as she tugged on her precious cross. “At least he’ll talk to the others, even if it’s just to turn them down. Matt and Dan asked him over for Thanksgiving, but he told them he doesn’t celebrate the holiday.” She drew in a breath and seemed to think of something. “He’s become more withdrawn since he lost his mother. He still talks to Jean, but they eat lunch in private, away from everyone else, and Jeremy told me that he won’t go out when Jean asks him to movies or restaurants.”

“I bet Knox is happy about that.” The man had been trying to date Moreau for ages, and all of a sudden Moreau was hanging out with someone else when he finally had his shot?

“No, he’s not,” Renee argued as she leaned back in her chair. “Jeremy said the two of them are just friends, and he’s more than fine with Jean spending time with a friend, especially Neil.” She gave Andrew that annoying, disapproving look of hers. “In a real, healthy relationship, you’re happy when the person you love is having fun, has friends they share common interests in things. It doesn’t weaken what you have with each other. That’s why Katelyn doesn’t mind Aaron going to the club with you, Kevin and Nicky without her because she knows that sometimes he just needs to let loose yet she trusts him, and he doesn’t have a problem with her girls’ nights out with Marissa and Nicole. It’s why Allison trusts me to go away for weeks at a time, and I’m fine with her going alone to those events of hers.”

He clicked his tongue in disgust as he gave up on the hem of his jeans to tap his fingers against the armrests of the chair. “As if I’ll ever do a ‘real, healthy’ relationship. Not my style.” No, not with the whole ‘trust’ thing and all that.

Who would ever be able to put up with a mess like him long enough for him to trust them?

Her dark brown eyes grew unfocused. “Hmmm.”

Now that wasn’t irritating as hell, was it?

Before he could ask what she meant by that, she shook her head as if clearing it of something distracting. “Back to Neil, yes? He’s showing up to work every day now, but it’s like he’s going through the motions, just putting in his time.” She once more took to fussing with the damn cross. “He was much more social, such as it was, when his mother was present.”

“When she was around to slam things into me or destroy my property? Yeah, still no regrets over getting rid of her. And I’ll take Josten being anti-social if it keeps him from putting his freaky power to use,” Andrew argued as he tapped his fingers even faster against the arms of the chair; Neil was never around anyone long enough, never close enough to anyone for that mind-fuck power of his to come into play.

“Yes, but… you know that’s not what his uncle wants,” she reminded Andrew. “We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Neil and trying to help him if possible.”

Was that a pathetic attempt at guilt? While it was true that Andrew had received a rather hefty deposit in his checking account which more than paid for new tires and the few items he’d bought to replace the destroyed ones in his office, he didn’t have an endless amount of energy or patience when it came to Neil Josten. “He’s made it clear that he wants to be left alone.”

“He also made it clear that he didn’t want us to interfere with him and his mother, but you ignored his wishes in that regard,” Renee said in a prim manner as she slid the cross back and forth along its silver chain. “It’s not like you to renege on a deal.”

He gave her the finger as he stood up, no longer in a mood to talk (to deal with delusional fools). “I’m not, I’ll watch him while he’s here at work, there was no mention of me doing anything more than that.”

She gave him a knowing look as he walked away, but wisely didn’t say anything else (or she would have eaten that precious cross of hers). He did his best to lose himself in work for the rest of the day, to help his cases, his kids, and was mostly successful.

“Are you even tasting that pie?” Nicky asked during lunch. “Should I bother asking how it is?”

Andrew blinked and realized that he’d eaten half the chocolate bourbon pecan pie that Nicky was ‘testing’ out before Thanksgiving without noticing it; he grunted and had another forkful before he gave a thumb’s up in approval.

“Distracted much?” Aaron asked while Katelyn rubbed a pouting Nicky on the arm. “I don’t think you’ve paid attention to anything we’ve said in the past twenty minutes.”

“That a bad thing?” Andrew gave his twin a blank look as he finished the pie, which really was good; all he’d missed out on was plans for the holiday, he was willing to bet, Nicky and Katelyn talking about what they’d make for dinner while Aaron complained about having to do the dishes.

“Just that you seem a bit out of it lately. Everything all right with your kids?”

“They’re fine.” Wymack would probably assign him a new case one, soon, and the holidays were always a mixed bag when it came to the kids because of shit happening during that time of the year.

“Okay.” Aaron stared at Andrew as if waiting for more of an explanation than that, as if searching for signs of trouble, but it wasn’t _Andrew_ who was affected by the end of the year; he wasn’t bothered by his birthday (already passed for the year), by the prospect of family gatherings like Nicky and Aaron could be at times, by another year gone by without some message from Luther and Maria (no loss there) or the memories of holidays past (horrible holidays past).

Yes, Andrew had shitty birthdays and holidays before he moved in with Bee and Aaron (and Nicky had wormed his way in as well), but he didn’t dwell on those days like his brother and his cousin did. On what might have been with Cass, on maybes and… he _didn’t_.

There was no changing the past – that was something they needed to learn, them and Josten.

Andrew told Nicky to make another pie and Katelyn her maple and marshmallow sweet potato dish for Thanksgiving, which got the conversation back on track. It wasn’t that he looked forward to the family dinner, but at least he knew he’d have lots of good food to eat, everyone would send him home with containers of leftovers and there would be plenty to drink as well. Considering his childhood… he could put up with Erik and Nicky pawing at each other while Aaron and Katelyn played footsie at the dining table.

The whiskey helped. A lot.

That and Bee had the whole boring ‘no bloodshed’ rule during family dinners. Someone was no fun.

Seeing Aaron give Katelyn a sickening smile as she pulled out her phone to work on a shopping list, Andrew made a mental note to pick up an extra bottle of whiskey the next time he went to the liquor store and to take an uber to Nicky’s house for the holiday dinner that year.

*******

Neil gritted his teeth as he picked up another bag of oranges and checked that there weren’t any bad ones in the mesh sack; there was just enough plastic to convey the emotions of the last person who’d handled it, a simmering discontent and exhaustion to set his nerves even more on edge. Once he was certain that the fruit was good, he grabbed another bag, checked it, and added it to the cart. He finished up his shopping with some pomegranates, which were set out individually and weren’t so bad since fruit, as ‘living’ organisms, slowly shed the impressions of the people who’d last handled them over time.

He probably should have gotten more food, but the store was getting crowded (more crowded) and he couldn’t bear to remain any longer, not when he’d already had a child run into him and someone bump against him when he’d leaned into the meat cooler for chicken. The child’s emotions hadn’t been too bad as she’d laughed and grabbed at his hands, but the woman’s scalding loathing for everyone (including herself) made him want to go home and scrub at his skin in the shower for an hour or so, to not leave his flat until after the new year.

That or put on a pair of gloves and never take them off, but his mother had always forbidden him from doing just that, had said once he started that he’d rely upon them as a crutch and would wear them forever, even during warm weather and times when it would draw too much attention to him. The one thing he could _never_ do? Draw unwanted attention to himself.

Mary had told him that it was better to suffer the occasional blasts of memories and emotions rather than have people wonder why he wore gloves all the time, to become suspicious. He wasn’t sure that he agreed with her considering that he was the one with the talent, but he knew the importance of being able to blend in, of not standing out enough that his father’s people (or worse) could find them too easily.

So he still obeyed her rules even with her gone, well aware that when he did go on the run in a few months, he would be running from the Hatfords (or worse) and couldn’t afford to make any mistakes since he’d be on his own. He had to get used to dealing with the things his mother used to help him with, back when she’d been alive _and_ dead.

It didn’t mean that he couldn’t retreat back to his flat and stay there as much as possible during the holiday season to spare himself from the worst of it, though. Or continue to hold himself aloof from everyone at work except for Jean since he was just counting down the days until he left. Or barely deal with his family anymore, only ‘talking’ to Aunt Miriam and his cousins Jamie and Henry through text now and then to ‘assure’ them that he was fine and remaining in Columbia and _might_ forgive Stuart and the rest of them _eventually_.

That was one of his better lies.

Neil sat in the quiet, cold flat, his Persian studies neglected for the moment (he had a good enough grasp of the language and should start a new one soon), a mug of tea held between his hands. He probably should eat something for dinner, but he wasn’t that hungry and half the time forgot to do so when there wasn’t anyone to nag him to eat. Instead, he spent the evening going over possible routes to stashes (Virginia to Illinois to North Dakota to Washington to Nevada to New Mexico, or New Mexico to Illinois to Washington to Nevada to North Dakota to Virginia, or…) until it was time for bed.

He ignored the boxes of donuts in the break room, just like he ignored the sad look Matt gave him as he fixed his tea without doing more than acknowledging his coworker and Dan with a polite nod; he could sense the continuing confusion and sadness from most of his colleagues in regards to him whenever he touched communal items such as the fridge or the cabinets, which he tried to do as little as possible and with his fingers almost completely covered with the sleeves of his sweaters.

His tea was almost ready when Matt approached with a hopeful smile on his face. “I know you said you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, but that can’t be the case with Christmas, right? Do you have any plans this year? We always have enough food to feed an extra guest or two,” Matt offered as he gestured between him and a smiling Dan.

Fortunately, Neil already had an answer ready. “Thanks, but I’ve plans for the holiday. My family wants me to spend it with them so I took the time off.” That was the truth; Aunt Miriam kept asking Neil to return to London for the holidays (to patch things up with the family), and he had used up his vacation days at the end of the year. He just chose to let people think the two things were connected.

“Oh.” Matt appeared disappointed, but quickly rallied to give him a grin and a ‘thumbs up’ gesture. “As long as you’re not sitting home alone this time, right?”

Neil produced a non-committal hum as he threw out the teabag for his drink then made an excuse about work before he left the room, eager to be done with the ‘small-talk’ for the time being. He still had to deal with Andrew (at least for another month or two) in regards to Peter Minkin, and Camila was making great progress so not much longer there, either.

Which was probably why Wymack had assigned him Yun Deng, a young girl who’d been unfortunate enough to lose both of her parents when someone had robbed the small take-away restaurant they’d run. She was still learning English, so he sat in with her and Renee Walker, which made for an uncomfortable hour each work day.

Andrew basically ignored him, outside of what he translated for Peter, which was fine with Neil since he did much the same with the other man. Allison would make pointed comments about his outfit and ask if he was eating properly at the end of their session or if they had enough time before Camila arrived, while Robin was friendly but respected Neil’s desire to remain professional. Jean was still the only person at work whom Neil talked to on a regular basis, other than Jeremy now and then (because of Jean).

There were times when he missed how things had been, when he’d like to sit down with a cup of tea and allow Matt to talk his ear off or- but it was better that way. He’d let down his guard once and it had cost him too much.

His mother wasn’t around to watch his back anymore, so he had to keep people at arm’s length at all times, figuratively and literally.

Much like with Halloween, work had been decorated for the upcoming holiday, only with more fervor: there were small trees lit up and embellished with ornaments in several rooms (the break room, the foyer, various offices), wreaths scattered about and tons of snowflakes that the staff and the kids had cut stuck up on the walls. After being put on the spot by Renee, Neil donated some money to the ‘Foxes’ toy drive’ (it wasn’t that he minded giving some cash to help make the holiday better for the kids, just that Renee had cornered him in the break room in front of Dan and Robin with that false ‘sweet’ mask of hers) and thought that he was done with the whole ‘be merry’ shit.

He was wrong.

Wymack was the one to do the whole ‘cornering’ next time, though Renee was right beside him, along with Dan. “Josten, finally caught up with you.” He gave Neil a squinty look for a moment and grunted before going over to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. “Seems like you’re always squirreled away in your office.”

“Busy working,” Neil murmured as he eyed up Renee, who smiled at him while holding some sort of box covered with bright gold and red wrapping paper. Did Wymack have a problem with his job performance? But why confront him like this and in front of others?

“So I hear,” Wymack said before he took a cautious sip of coffee then winced. “Anyway, each year we have a Christmas party for the staff, some catered food and everyone brings stuff in as well, and there’s the secret Santa gift exchange. I wasn’t sure if Jean had told you about it.”

Jean had mentioned something about the staff party, but not the gift exchange, so Neil shook his head.

“It’s not that big,” Dan explained as Wymack tried another sip of coffee. “You pick a name and only have to spend about twenty or thirty dollars, no more than that, and keep it a secret until the party.” She gave him a reassuring smile as she went to grab a pastry from the counter while Renee held up the box. “I mean, if you need help in figuring out a gift, you can always ask someone for advice, but mostly keep it a secret. We try to not let everyone know who’s giving to whom until the big day.”

Neil had a feeling that he didn’t have much of a choice, not if everyone else was participating, so he swallowed a sigh and nodded. Renee was quick to step forward with the box. “Here, let me pick a name for you, just let me know if it’s your own, okay?” she offered, well aware that he wasn’t pleased with the thought of reaching into a box and touching papers that others would have handled.

“Okay.” He waited for her to pick a slip and hand it over with care to make sure their fingers didn’t touch, and swallowed another sigh when he unfolded it (ignoring the slight wash of emotions from Renee, a sense of concern and hope for some reason) to see Aaron Minyard’s name. “It’s not mine.”

“Good!” She continued to smile while she shook the box as if she waited for him to say something else, then took a step back after a couple of seconds. “Now to find Seth so he can pick.”

“He better be working on those new software patches and not on a smoke break,” Wymack grumbled as they headed to the door. “We need to get that done before the end of the year.”

Neil watched them leave then crumpled the small slip of paper and threw it away.

“ _Aaron isn’t too difficult_ ,” Jean told him during their lunch that day. “ _I suggest coffee, since he’s always complaining about being tired between his shift here and at hospital, getting his hours in for his internship_.”

“ _That… should be doable_.” Neil rubbed at his forehead as he thought about going out for something, and hoped that it wouldn’t be too bad, braving some coffee shop. “ _When’s the party again_?”

“ _The twenty-second_.” That was Neil’s last day of work before his vacation kicked in. Jean gave him a worried look before he resumed gazing at his lunch. “ _It’s usually a nice event, considering the food and everything. A couple of hours of… well, some people like a chance to chat with their coworkers_.”

Meaning people other than Neil and Jean. “ _I’ll get the gift and stick around for a little while_.” Maybe he could use the excuse of ‘traveling’ or something to leave early.

He braved the mall that weekend to buy Aaron’s gift, hampered by a warm spell that left him unable to wear gloves. The thumbhole sleeves of his sweatshirt were pulled as far down over his fingers as possible, but his skin still came in contact a little with the handles of the doors as he entered the building, which radiated so _much_ emotion from all of the people being packed into it day after day that it was like sandpaper against Neil’s mind just walking into the place – difficult to ignore, annoying and low-level painful. He gritted his teeth together as he strode toward where the coffee shop Aaron preferred was supposed to be (per what he’d looked up the night before), dodging the people who walked about with bags in their hands or while talking or texting on their phones or chatting with other people.

The shop was busy, so he waited in line as the pressure in his head grew, as he leaned back and to the side to avoid people who walked in or out, huddled in his sweatshirt with his fingers curled into such tight fists that his nails bit into the palms of his hands. When it was finally his turn at the counter, he asked for two bags of coffee, some sort of nice gift for someone who liked to drink the stuff, and let the employee pick them without caring about the price. The young woman said something about the choices being among their most popular blends and rang him up, appearing grateful to have an easy and quick sale for once, while Neil forced his fingers to unclench so he could set down the cash for the purchase with a comment that the rest was for a tip, rather than deal with having any money be returned to him.

Her expression brightened at that, and she wished him a ‘good day’ as she handed over the bag – he’d hoped that she’d just set it down on the counter like he had done with the money, and bit the inside of his cheek when their fingers touched. Exhaustion from working too long for too little, gratitude over the tip and weariness – as well as a bit of despair - from having to deal with more customers washed into him, along with images of a small apartment with a couple of cats and what he assumed to be her roommates.

Neil stammered out something in reply then hurried from the shop as quickly as he could without running into someone, the unwanted memories/emotions a taint in his mind like oil on water. He _hated_ having such things thrust upon him, in knowing/feeling them when he had enough trouble dealing with his own.

The bag of coffee was thrown on the counter in the kitchen once he was back in the flat, to be dealt with another time, and Neil scrubbed his hands clean (as if he could wash away the memories) until the skin was red and sore before he forced himself to stop and fill the tea kettle with fresh water instead. He took some acetaminophen for his headache while the water boiled, and did his best to put the whole excursion out of his mind.

(For a moment there was the thought of going up to the roof, of walking to the ledge and going over it to make it all go away… until he heard his mother’s voice in his head telling him to keep moving, felt the phantom pull of fingers in his hair to back up the familiar order.)

That night he dreamed of the house in Baltimore, of right before his mother had taken him and run. He dreamed of what had happened after his father had found out about his talent, about the afternoon down in the basement which reeked of bleach, the large, cool room with the cement floor painted dark grey and the white subway tile walls with the locked red and chrome metal cabinets. The room where so much pain and fear and hatred and hopelessness and death poured into him with every breath and heartbeat.

His father had needed information from someone who’d overdosed, so Neil ( _Nathaniel_ ) had to touch the body, to touch the young man’s belongings again and _again_ until he found what his father had wanted (along with pain and the bite of addiction and _despair_ and over it all the pall of _death_ ). Then he’d had to do it _again_ and _again_ as more people were pulled in, the names he’d given to his father, to watch as Nathan and Lola went to work, to _touch_ and _touch_ and **_touch_** to verify that they all spoke the truth.

Neil woke curled in a ball with his palms bloody from where his nails had bitten into the plump flesh. For a moment, there was the thought to grab a knife from the nightstand and use it to saw off his fingers, to smash them in the door or- He wanted the ability to _touch_ and _know_ things to be gone.

But it didn’t work that way, did it? He would have to flay off every inch of himself and even then would it be enough? After all, he didn’t have to be the one to touch to have his talent triggered, and there were still the ghosts as well. Better to go up to the roof or to just grab his gun and put a bullet in his head.

For a moment he seriously considered it, was already reaching for the weapon when once again he felt the phantom pull of fingers in his hair and the faint murmur of his mother’s voice chiding him to run, to keep moving, to carry on. No, she would beat him bloody for even thinking of giving up, of letting go, when his only option was to keep living.

Somehow.

It was easy to ignore the holiday festivities going on at work since it had never mattered much to Neil in the past; holidays were just a ‘show’ at the house at Baltimore (were something to be endured if guests were around, were another night of bruises and cuts once those guests left), and were ignored entirely while on the run with his mother except for the fact that shops would be closed and trains on restricted schedules (which sometimes worked in their favor, and sometimes didn’t). Neil had only ‘properly’ celebrated Christmas and New Years in the last few years when he’d gone to the Hatfords for protection, and partaken in their gatherings on the outskirts due to him living on his own/trying to maintain a ‘low profile’.

(Because of Mary.)

He didn’t understand the fuss of a big family dinner, of wanting to be around a bunch of people while they drank and acted silly, of interacting with a roomful of strangers. No, he was fine with his plan of spending two weeks by himself, learning a new language (he was still trying to decide between Ukrainian and Hindi) and not leaving the flat at all.

A couple of packages arrived from the UK on the twentieth, large boxes soaked with stress and overwork from the people who’d delivered them and which made Neil feel a bit guilty since he hadn’t sent anything to the Hatfords in return. He let his aunt know that they had arrived via text and made an excuse about being busy with work and continued ignoring the family as much as possible, a knot of bitterness still twisted inside of him at how they’d sent Stuart over to exorcise Mary, at how they hadn’t even talked to him about her first.

No, it was best to keep his distance, to stick to the plan to remain in Columbia for a couple more months and then disappear, he told himself. With that in mind, Neil decided to learn Ukrainian as his next language.

The day of the staff party, Neil showed up with Aaron’s coffee in a gift bag he’d ordered online, the same with some caramels in holiday wrappers (one of the best benefits of living in the same flat for an extended period was being able to do online shopping – if only Columbia was big enough for him to get all of his groceries that way) as his ‘snack’ contribution. Palmetto Services would still be open for the holidays, but on a reduced schedule focusing on the priority cases. Theoretically, Child Services would still be up and running for the next couple of weeks… but due to the shortage in staff, they would be there to provide necessary support and allow the children (who could) to spend time with family, foster homes and loved ones, and to step in whenever needed.

Which meant that Neil didn’t feel too bad about taking the days off, especially when it was a time of strong emotions. He dropped off the candy and gift in the large conference room set aside for the party then hid in his office until it was time for the staff to come together, intent to wrap up any loose ends in regards to paperwork before he went on ‘holiday’.

It appeared that Wymack didn’t cut corners when it came to treating his people to a staff party; the large table in the room was covered with food, and not all of it had been brought in by staff. There were heated aluminum tins filled with roast beef, pasta, chicken breasts and vegetables, along with the platters of desserts, appetizers and side dishes – more than enough to feed everyone twice over.

That wasn’t even taking into account the decorations – the sparkling trees and all the garland and the glitter and the wreaths and… Neil just didn’t understand why there was so much effort put into just a few hours of people gathered to eat and exchange stupid presents. Everything for one damn day of the year, for a stupid holiday about giving gifts and false expectations and… and honestly? He didn’t get Christmas. In theory? Presents could be nice, but if there was one thing that life had taught him, is that nothing was ever really given for free – look at the ‘secret Santa’, for example. No one gave a gift without the expectation of receiving something in exchange, after all. As far as he could tell, that was what the holiday was about: you put on a false face, tried to impress people by giving them something which made you seem important with what you could buy (what you could afford to spend), threw a lavish party to cement the importance of your status and expected to be compensated in return… it was a bunch of bullshit.

A bunch of bullshit Neil had to suffer through and then he was free for two weeks.

He’d worn a sweater which covered him from neck to knee, which was long enough to hang down over his fingertips, so he ignored Allison’s eyerolls over its bagginess as he accepted a cup of eggnog (alcohol-free, of course) from Jean while he checked the table for something to eat. Across the room, he noticed Andrew gazing at him, but he ignored the man with long-practiced ease as he assembled a plate (only a hint of excitement/happiness from Dan, who’d set out the items) of pasta with marina sauce, what looked to be some spicy chicken dip side, and fruit salad.

Once he’d grabbed some food, he’d settled in a corner with Jean and Jeremy. “That’s all you’re eating?” Jeremy asked, his own plate almost bending from the weight of the food he’d placed on it.

“For now,” Neil said, which was the truth; so what if he didn’t intend on going back for more? Especially since there were so many desserts.

“He’s probably just pacing himself,” Jean added as he gave a disdainful look at Jeremy’s plate. “Not trying to make himself sick, like some people.”

Jeremy laughed as he stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken breast. “Aw, it’s a party! You’re supposed to stuff yourself silly!” When Neil gazed back with blank emotion and Jean scowled, Jeremy let out a weak chuckle. “I’ve been saving myself all day for this? Don’t worry, I won’t eat too much.”

Jean sniffed while Neil continued to eat. “It’s your stomach.”

Neil stood there while the two bickered back and forth (well, more Jean bickered and Jeremy smiled while he countered Jean’s barbs with something that appeared to be contentment), while everyone else did much the same; it looked as if Matt tried to wave him over to join him, Dan and Allison and Walker, but Neil pretended that he was too busy eating to notice.

After about half an hour, Wymack went up to the whiteboard and cleared his throat. “Okay, time for the secret Santa reveal,” he called out; he was wearing a garish red sweater with a cartoonish reindeer on it, complete with blinking red nose. “Let’s hope you screw-ups did a good job for once!” His smile turned into a wince as Abby, who stood nearby to help hand out the presents, it seemed, smacked him on the arm. “Ow! It was a joke!”

The scowl on her face made it obvious that she didn’t find it amusing, so he cleared his throat again and called Betsy Dobson up for her present.

Neil was the fourth person called, and he was mildly surprised to find out his gift was a nice selection of tea from an anxious Robin, who gave him a shy smile after he opened the colorful gift bag stuffed with tissue paper. It was Aaron’s turn a few minutes later; he appeared grateful for the coffee (judging from the polite nod and slight smile he gave Neil) – more-so than his brother, who received a set of hot chocolate tins (Neil was sensing a theme in the gifts). Jean was certainly happy about his Monet-inspired knitted scarf and hat that brought out the color of his eyes, a thoughtful gift from Walker.

Realizing that he couldn’t hide in the corner forever, Neil went over to thank Robin once all of the gifts were exchanged and spent a little time assuring everyone that he’d be busy for the holidays (which was true since he planned to learn a new language) and mentioned again about his family inviting him to visit them. He hedged a bit about travel (it _was_ a long flight to the UK – he just wasn’t making it anytime soon, a fact he left out of the discussion), and once again wove a good bit of the truth in with lies until the two were indistinguishable.

Why did anyone care about him, anyway? They weren’t Mary, weren’t the one person who’d bled for him, had suffered broken bones and endless abuse, had given up everything, even their life.  He could walk away tomorrow (would walk away soon enough), and they’d treat the next person whom Wymack hired the same way, so why did it matter?

As soon as he could, he fled the party with the excuse of needing to tend to a few things before he went on holiday, and spent the rest of work day in his office. He was busy typing up notes in case anyone had questions about Peter, Camila or the other children assigned to him when someone knocked on the door to his office, for once left unlocked. Neil frowned before he called out for them to enter.

Wymack strode into the room, which put Neil on guard, as always. “Yes?”

The older man grunted as he sat down in the spare chair. “Just wanted to check in before you went on vacation. Everything okay?” He gave Neil an assessing look. “I got the impression that you weren’t on the best footing with your family, which is why I was surprised to hear that you were spending the holidays with them.” He was quiet for a moment while he tugged on the front of his garish sweater. “This have anything to do with… well, I’m sorry for your loss, earlier this year.”

Ah yes, _that_ ; he still wasn’t quite clear what Walker had told Wymack to excuse him for taking a couple of days off after she, Andrew and Stuart had performed the exorcism, other than that he was ‘out’ for family bereavement. “Part of the reason I’m taking the time off is because of it,” Neil said, which was true, in a roundabout way. If Mary was still around, he wouldn’t have to hide away because of the holidays, wouldn’t have the stressed détente with the Hatfords, wouldn’t be planning on uprooting the life he’d fought so hard for here in Columbia and running off to Russia in another couple of months. “It’ll help me settle a few things.” Or something like that.

It was good that he was such an experienced liar, judging from the way that Wymack studied him for a few seconds before grunting once more. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure that you were all right with everything, because I know Matt and Dan offered for you to spend the holidays with them, and Abby never minds if someone comes to dinner at her place, either. Things have been a bit rough for you and I’m not sure what’s going on between you, Renee and Andrew, but there’s people here for you. Keep that in mind, will you?”

Why did the man care? What sort of game was he playing? Was he trying to keep Neil tied to Palmetto Services for some reason, so as not to keep looking for a new translator, or was he in league with the Hatfords? Regardless, Neil didn’t trust him.

All Neil did was nod slightly and say ‘thank you’ in a subdued voice.

Wymack regarded him for a few more seconds before he sighed and reminded Neil that there were plenty of leftovers if he wanted to take some home, then wished him a nice vacation before he left. Grateful to be left alone once again, Neil finished his work for the day then escaped from the office for the rest of the year.

He returned to his flat, intent on not leaving it any time soon. As far as the Hatfords were concerned, he was spending the holidays with work colleagues, while everyone in Columbia was convinced that he’d be out of town for the next two weeks.

All Neil wanted was to be left alone for as long as possible… then to disappear.

*******

“Do you want any more of the pecan pie or _polvorónes?” Nicky asked, as if Andrew hadn’t already stuffed himself on those treats, as well as about a dozen spritz cookies. That was after waiting an hour_ _past_ _a large dinner of prime rib and lamb, of Katelyn’s sweet potatoes and Erik’s German potato salad and Bee’s stuffing and way too many sides (Andrew wouldn’t have to do anything more than reheat leftovers for a few days, which was fine by him). It had been a little odd at first, melding the different cuisines (American/Southern, German and Spanish), but everyone was so used to it that it didn’t seem like a holiday dinner without all the various dishes._

_He popped another polvoróne into his mouth and let the sweet milk-flavored candy melt on his tongue a little before he began to chew it while Katelyn and Nicky talked about braving the stores for the day after Christmas sales; they still had one more day off work, which he intended to spend doing as little as possible at home._

“Was Santa good to you this year?” Bee asked with an amused glimmer in her light brown eyes.

“Who do I contact again to see about getting your license revoked?” Andrew asked as he wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee. “You’ve clearly lost it.”

She laughed while Erik came around with a full pot of coffee and topped off their mugs. “So you’re happy with all of your presents?”

Andrew gave a non-committal grunt even though the answer was ‘yes’: he’d gotten a couple of books he’d looked forward to being released for the last couple of months, some nice boxes and bars of gourmet chocolate, a few articles of clothing and a couple of good bottles of whiskey. Considering that none of them (well, except for Erik) at the moment were making a lot of money, they tried to not go overboard when it came to presents for each other, focusing on what each other could actually use and liked rather than showing off. He felt that his family had done a decent job that year.

“Shouldn’t have to take anything back this year, so I suppose it’s good,” he drawled, which earned a scoff from Bee. “Guess you guys didn’t mess up too badly.”

“Gee, thanks.” She rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “Next year I’m giving you that gift card to Hobby Lobby so you can buy a bunch of needlepoint kits instead.”

“I’m going to disown you as a New Year’s resolution,” Andrew ‘promised’, which made his adopted mother laugh. It was right around when Nicky came over to see what was so funny that his phone began to ring; it was an unfamiliar number, and one from out of the country at that, so he ignored it.

Except it kept _calling_.

Bee and Nicky gave Andrew a curious look as he set his phone to ‘mute’ then shoved it back into the right front pocket of his jeans. “Uhm, something going on?” Nicky asked as he toyed with a spare wrapper from one of the candies. “Renee or someone?”

Andrew shrugged as he swirled the remaining bit of coffee left in his mug. “Nothing important.” At least, nothing _he_ considered important, though his phone continued to vibrate with missed calls.

“All right.” His cousin didn’t seem to believe him, but knew better than to push (at least, most of the time). “So, New Year’s Eve at Aaron’s and Katelyn’s. We getting together before then at Eden’s?”

Andrew thought about it and shrugged in a ‘why not’ manner; he was resigned to his brother’s (poor) choice in a fiancée at that point in time and mostly suffered through the family gatherings with Katelyn in attendance (it helped that she was a decent cook and knew to keep her distance), but a night out between family events would be a welcome break.

“Great!” Nicky canted a sly look Bee’s way while he picked up a spritz cookie. “Ah, I’m sure we’ll be good little boys while out.”

Bee snorted in derision at that. “Right, I’ve only had two glasses of wine tonight, nowhere near enough to buy a story like that.” She was driving that night, had picked up Andrew and would see him home.

“Aw, but we’ll… well, we won’t cause too much trouble,” a laughing Nicky promised while Andrew held up his pack of cigarettes to show them that he was headed outside to smoke. Bee nodded while Nicky paused in his storytelling to have another bite of cookie; Andrew swung by to pick up a coat against the chill then slipped out to the back patio through the kitchen, where Erik was singing a German Christmas carol beneath his breath as he and Aaron loaded the dishwasher while Katelyn assembled care packages for everyone to take home.

Andrew waited until after he’d lit a cigarette and drawn in a few deep breaths before he pulled out his phone and checked his voicemail, only to hear Stuart’s angry voice demand that he call back immediately. He deleted the messages and almost ignored them… except there had been a hint of panic in that deep, smoke-roughened voice, was the matter of an owed debt.

Having a feeling that he’d ‘regret’ what he was about to do, Andrew held the smoke in his lungs while he hit ‘dial’ then let it out once Stuart answered the call. “About fuckin’ time, you ill-mannered runt.” The British bastard sounded even more upset, a bit drunk and a touch frantic.

“It’s Christmas, I’m busy,” Andrew drawled as he flicked ash off to the side. “What the hell is it?”

“Is he there? Tell me the sneaky little shit is there!” While Andrew blinked at the question and attempted to make sense out of it (he’d had a good bit of whiskey that night after all, though was well on his way to sobering up), Stuart produced a low groan of frustration. “Is he with the French guy, at least? Moreau? _Well_?”

It finally clicked into place. “Wait, you’re calling about Neil? But he’s with you,” Andrew said as he flicked the remains of the cigarette aside then jerked his left hand through his hair. “He left for the UK a couple of days ago to spend the holidays with the family.” Or so the lying bastard had said, it slowly sunk in….

No, Neil said he’d been _invited_ to spend the holidays with his family, Andrew realized as he swore beneath this breath, right around the same time that Stuart did the same.

“Dammit, he’s not here, he told us he’d been invited to spend the holiday by you gits and so was staying there, and he’s not answering his phone,” Stuart all but yelled. “We’ve been trying to reach him all day and it goes right into voicemail!”

“He turned everyone down.” Dammit, why had Andrew believed the word of a known liar? Why hadn’t he pushed, had asked a question or two? Because it was so much easier to let Neil run away? To pretend that nothing was owed as long as Neil refused to have anything to do with anyone?

“You’re supposed to be watching over him, you and Walker! Didn’t either of you think to make sure he got on the damn plane? Offer to take him to the fuckin’ airport or somethin’?”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he wrapped his arm around his chest against the cold. “And what? Force him on the plane? Your nephew is an adult,” he pointed out even if the bastard was somewhat correct; they _were_ supposed to watch out for Neil, had sworn to do that, and now the idiot liar was missing.

“At least you would have done _somethin’_ ,” Stuart spat. “Fuck it, I’m flying out on the next-“

“ _Don’t_ ,” Andrew warned as he straightened up. “It’s clear that he’s still pissed off at you or else he’d have gone to visit. You coming here now will just piss him off even more. I’ll go look for him,” he swore as the fingers of his left hand flexed at the thought of smacking some sense into the idiot for interrupting his night off.

Stuart muttered something too low to be understood on the other end of the line for a couple of seconds before heaving a loud sigh. “Let me know once you find him, I don’t care the time.”

“Whatever.” Andrew hung up then went to see if Bee was willing to give him a ride back home or if he’d need to call an Uber so he could fetch his own car.

There were some questioning looks over his decision to leave a little early, but like with Nicky, his family knew better than to push; Katelyn handed over a bag full of leftovers, Nicky gave him a nervous pat on the shoulder and said they’d figure out their plans for Eden’s later, Aaron gave him a quick hug while Erik wished him a good night, and off he went with Bee. At her curious look, he shrugged a little and said that he needed to check on an idiot for someone, which was enough for her.

She gave him a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas when they reached his building, and after he dropped off his presents and the food in his apartment, he went back out so he could drive to Neil’s home, which he remembered from the information that Seth had sent him a while ago.

The place wasn’t in the _worst_ part of town… but Neil could afford someplace better with his salary. The apartment building was old with small windows and metal balconies (some of them marred with rust), the parking lot filled with older model cars. Still, the place was mostly clean and didn’t appear to be falling apart (the bit of rust aside), and had strings of light on a good bit of the balconies.

(It reminded Andrew a bit too much of the apartment complex he’d lived in with Aaron and _Tilda_ before the drug-addicted bitch had overdosed and Bee had taken custody of them.)

He made his way to Neil’s apartment, the sound of Christmas carols drifting down the hallway with the off-white painted walls and carpet that might have been beige at one point but now was some sort of dingy grey from wear. He reached the appropriate door and knocked a few times, then knocked again a little harder, then started banging on it, certain that Neil was home due to the faint line of light which escaped from the cracks at the top and bottom of the frame.

“I’m not going away,” Andrew called out as he stared directly at the peephole. “Either let me in or your uncle’s gonna show up in several hours.”

It took a few more seconds, but there was the sound of bolts being undone before the door opened up a little. “What about my unc- hey!”

Andrew didn’t wait to be invited inside, he shoved the door open and made himself at home, so to speak. At least, he took a few steps forward, past a protesting Neil, then stopped when he realized that the apartment was almost as cold as outside due to the windows and sliding door being open.

Neil lived in a small space, with a kitchen behind a half wall/counter, a couple of doors (closet, maybe a half bath and what looked to be a bedroom), and a living room with only a padded chair, a small coffee table, a side table and a floor lamp.

Something told Andrew that Neil didn’t entertain much.

“ _Get out_ ,” Neil gritted through clenched teeth as he stood by the door, dressed in what looked to be sweatpants and an overlarge sweatshirt, his hair an even more unruly mess than usual and dark circles beneath his eyes. He appeared worn-out, as if he’d barely gotten any rest in the last couple of days, and even wavered on his feet a little. “Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Andrew asked after clicking his tongue a couple of times in mock disapproval.

“I didn’t invite you in!” Neil made a swiping motion at Andrew but didn’t come close enough to connect. “I should shoot you for barging in like that!”

Hmm, interesting, did someone like to play with guns like their uncle? “But you opened the door, that’s a clear invitation.” When Neil’s glare went up a notch, Andrew clicked his tongue again and headed over to close the sliding door, tired of the cold. “Besides, you either deal with me or your uncle.”

Neil made as if to stop him before he paused. “Uncle Stuart? Why… why did you say that?” He slipped his hands into the sleeves of the too-big sweatshirt while he gnawed on his full bottom lip. “Why would he care?”

“Maybe because you got found out on your little lie? Clever, by the way – letting everyone here think that you were going to the UK while your family thought that you were spending time with Moreau and Matt.”

“I just told everyone about all the invites I got and let them think whatever, and stop that. Leave it open.” Neil tried to reach for the door, but Andrew blocked it. “So what, you found me out, go you.” He gave a sarcastic slow clap while he resumed glaring, once more out of reach. “You can tell Stuart that I’m at home doing nothing, now leave.”

Not quite, not when Andrew was curious, of all things, about what was going on with the idiot – the lies, the isolation, the shitty condition. “Why is it so cold in here?”

“Because I want it that way.”

“Right, you want to come down with pneumonia,” Andrew drawled, before he remembered something – remembered how it had always been so cold near Casper. “Don’t tell me it’s you missing the dead bitch.”

Neil’s jaw clenched as he took a step forward before he stopped himself yet again. “Why the hell do you care? You got what you wanted and she’s gone, you won. I hope whatever my uncle’s paying you is enough for you to have to come here tonight to spy on me, now go away and report in like a good lackey.” When Andrew twitched a little at the ‘paying’ part as well as the venom behind the words, Neil’s dark eyes narrowed. “I’m right, aren’t I? He’s still fucking with my life.”

“It was either I come to check on your or he did,” Andrew admitted. “You can stop with the hissy fit any moment now.”

“Fuck you, and fuck him, too,” Neil spat as he stomped away, toward the kitchen. “Now go away!”

No; Andrew followed after a couple of seconds, dissatisfied with Neil’s avoidance of answering his questions. “Why didn’t you just-“ He fumbled for one of his knives when he rounded the half-wall to find Neil standing near the counter (near the block of knives) with a sharp weapon held in his right hand.

“Get the fuck out of my flat before I have to call Stuart about cleaning up a corpse,” Neil snarled, the virulence in his voice and those fake dark eyes offset by the way his hand trembled.

That would certainly make Stuart happy, at least, since it would mean the idiot calling him. “Too much effort,” Andrew decided as he used his left foot to move one of the two chairs around the small table (the kitchen was just as sparsely decorated, he noticed – table, tea kettle on the stove, toaster, bread box, knife set, a bowl with a couple of oranges in it, and not much else) so he could sit down, his attention mostly focused on Neil. “Plus, you’ll never get rid of your uncle that way.”

Neil made a low growl of frustration while his hand clenched around the knife’s handle then he slammed it down on the counter within easy reach. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Why indeed? Instead, Andrew decided to ask a question of his own as he sat down. “Why are you hiding out here?”

Instead of an answer (that was getting boring), he was glared at again. “No, don’t touch anything,” Neil snapped at him. “Get out, I told you!”

“Not until you answer me,” Andrew insisted as he settled in the chair. “Chop-chop.” Maybe not the best choice of words with knives around.

“Don’t touch anything!” Neil repeated as he took a step forward, only to do the stopping thing again, his hands balled into fists as he appeared torn between something. “I don’t want you here!” His tone was an odd mix of plaintiveness and anger.

“I picked up on that. Why are you being such an antisocial bastard?” Stuart would want to know, Andrew told himself; he wasn’t curious in the slightest or anything.

“You… you _fucking prat_!” Neil swore as he looked at Andrew as if he was utterly vile. “You had to ruin everything, didn’t you?” Now that? That was pure hatred.

“Because I took away your dead, abusive mother? Oh yes, bad me,” Andrew drawled as he leaned back in the chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and tapped the flat blade of the knife against the knuckles of his left hand, back on familiar ground with being loathed. “Is the pity party going to end any time soon?”

“You don’t know what she did for-“

“Beat you up? Drove everyone away?” Andrew mused aloud.

Neil’s eyes narrowed in anger as he smacked his left fist onto the counter. “She kept people from me for a good reason, you ignorant pissant.” He held up his right hand and waggled his fingers a couple of times. “I don’t just see ghosts, remember? I sense things when I touch people and objects.” When Andrew stiffened at the reminder and sat up so he wasn’t slumped against the chair or the table, Neil scoffed. “You think I like going into work and finding out what Matt and Dan were up to the night before when I open the fridge to put away my lunch? To know that Seth still has confidence issues when I touch a door? That Kevin just wants Wymack to be proud of him? I _don’t_. My mother made sure that people stayed away from me and helped to keep my talent hidden, to keep me safe, but what the hell do you care?”

Andrew scoffed as he returned the blade to its sheathe then shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, mindful not to touch the table. “Your mother was a poltergeist or damn near one, and was hurting you. She was hurting other people, which you don’t seem to-“

“What bothers you the most, hmm?” Neil asked with that cruel smile on his lips as he leaned forward, his gaze intent on Andrew. “That she hurt me or she might hurt your family? That she touched something of yours? From what I _know_ about you, you don’t give a damn about much except what’s yours, right? So don’t pretend that you did what you did to keep my mother from harming everyone, me included.”

There was a flash of anger at the reminder that Neil had touched Andrew the one time, had the opportunity to use his talent against him. “Think you know me, do you?” Andrew asked through gritted teeth. “Picked up all that through a simple handshake and the coffee machine?” How much had Neil seen into his mind that day? Had seen into Andrew’s past?

Now Neil’s handsome face twisted with blatant hatred. “Well, I had thought I knew you well enough that you would keep your promise, would honor the deal we made, but that didn’t work out too well, did it?” Someone was just a _little_ good at sarcasm.

It shouldn’t get beneath Andrew’s skin like that, the jab about him keeping his word, but he’d always prided himself in honoring his debts. “I didn’t tell Renee about your psychotic undead mother, she knew already when she came back,” he said through clenched teeth. “Your uncle knew as well. I just helped to make the bitch go away before she killed someone, including you.”

Neil’s hatred seemed to waver for a moment before it regained its strength. “I didn’t want her gone, she stayed here for a reason.” He held up his right hand and waggled his fingers again. “Without her, do you know how difficult it is to do something as simple as grocery shopping? When you’re surrounded by all these people and they’re _touching_ everything?” He didn’t wait for Andrew to answer before he continued, his gaze distant. “Especially at this time of the year? When it’s so crowded and everyone’s so stressed and unhappy? Some places soak up the emotions so just being in them makes them painful.”

That didn’t sound good, but wasn’t there a simple solution? “Just wear gloves.” Andrew nearly sighed when Neil looked at him as if _he_ was the idiot. “What?”

“Every day of my life? What happens if you see someone walking around with gloves on during the summer, hmm? Or inside all of the time without taking them off, even during the winter?”

“I think that they’re weird or have some sort of phobia,” Andrew admitted.

“You _notice_ them, and probably make a comment or joke about them.” Neil reached over and began to toy with the knife on the counter. “You talk about them, you and others, and it makes them stand out. That draws attention to them, and sooner or later, people who look for individuals like me and Walker, for individuals who can see ghosts and read minds and do other things find out about it, and they come looking into those stories.” The expression on his face right then made it clear that those ‘people’ weren’t good.

It reminded Andrew about Stuart berating Renee for drawing attention to Columbia with her reaching out for help to exorcise Mary, and Renee’s talk about the Church being ‘good’ in helping people like her – which implied that there was a lot of ‘bad’ organizations out there.

It implied that Neil believed putting up with an abusive ghost was better than dealing with those ‘people’.

“What about your family?” Andrew asked as he fought the urge for a cigarette, as he wished he’d had another tumbler full of whiskey before he’d left Nicky’s house as the realization began to set in of what he’d done – what he’d _not_ done in the last several weeks.

Neil scoffed as he continued to toy with the knife. “Them? The ones who sent my uncle here to exorcise my mother? The ones she ran from years ago? I can’t trust them. Never trust them.” Those last several words sounded rote as if they were something learned, and Andrew recalled Neil shouting about how his mother had been ‘right’ about him not trusting Stuart after the exorcism. “Look at how they’re trying to control me even now.”

Casper had certainly done a number on Neil, hadn’t she? Even if Neil was right about his mother helping with his one talent, she’d turned him against his family in the UK and taught him that he didn’t have anyone else to reach out to for help.

“So what, you’re just going to hide out here?” Andrew rolled his eyes when Neil gave him a mocking smile. “That actually seems like a good plan to you?”

“What do you care?” Neil demanded to know as he continued to play with the knife, as his fingers danced along its bare blade as if without a care of being cut. “You did what you sought out to do, you got rid of my mother, and you ran whatever errand my uncle sent you on so go bugger yourself, yeah? You’re not wanted here, get the hint. Tell my uncle to leave me alone, too.”

Andrew almost made a comment about Neil telling Stuart that himself, and him not having much Christmas spirit, but there was something about the tone of Neil’s voice then, about the look in those fake eyes, the way he was touching the knife; it had been years ago – over ten, in fact – but Andrew had a ‘talent’ of his own even if it was more ‘mundane’: his memory. He could still recall his reflection in the mirror when he’d lived with the Spears, how he’d handled the razor blades before he’d press them into his own skin, how desperate he’d been for some release from the pain and hopelessness as Drake had driven him into the figurative corner over his need to finally have a home (to hold onto Cass) and what the bastard had done to him.

(What he’d let the bastard do to him.)

It wasn’t quite the same, his and Neil’s situation… but what it came down to in the end was the pain and the lack of hope, of seeing a way out, Andrew supposed. And this time? _He’d_ played a part in driving someone into that corner, in taking that hope away, in putting that sharp blade in their hand. He still didn’t regret exorcising Casper (Mary)… but he shouldn’t have ignored Neil afterward, have downplayed his deal with Stuart.

 _Dammit_.

Standing up, he forced himself to look around the kitchen again and then at Neil, to truly _look_ ; the room really was bare and he was willing to bet that Neil wavered on his feet just then because he’d barely eaten anything, that he had to have lost a few pounds (at least) since Casper had gone away (no wonder Reynolds kept harping on the idiot about his meals – _she_ would have noticed). Even after what was probably days of hiding in his apartment, he was worn out (and still wearing those damn fake contacts), alone in a place that barely had any furniture or anything personal.

As if nothing was holding him in place, as if he could just disappear without any thought, either to another city or… or permanently.

It surprised Andrew, how much he disliked that thought.

“I don’t break my word,” he told a startled Neil. “Which is why I’m here now, checking up on you instead of having your uncle fly here from London.” That statement made Neil’s dark eyes grow wider. “Now here’s what we’re going to do if your family’s not to get involved, which I don’t think you want.”

“What do you mean, your word?” the idiot asked as he finally left the knife alone.

“Because of your wonderful mother trashing my stuff, I agreed to watch over you for your uncle in return for some money,” Andrew confessed, and held up his hands when anger flashed across Neil’s face. “Shut up and listen, all right? Like I said, it’s what’s keeping Stuart from flying here right now. Do you want that, yes or no? _Just_ ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“No,” Neil gritted out as he shoved his hands into the opposite, overlarge sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“Then here’s a new deal,” Andrew said while he gestured between them. “One I’ll keep just like I did the other one, even if you don’t believe it. Since I’m responsible for making her go away and Stuart wants me to keep an eye on you, I’ll take Cah-ah, Mary’s place helping you with the touching thing.” He thought about how wrong that sounded and internally winced. “In keeping people away and you not having to touch stuff so much.”

“You….” Neil’s right hand slipped free from the sleeve so he could rub at his face, which allowed Andrew to see some faded scars as the material on his right arm slid down; they appeared to have been left by knives, maybe a small burn or two. “That’s insane.” Yet he didn’t say ‘no’ or order Andrew to leave again.

“Perhaps, but it keeps your family away, keeps me being paid by them, and you… well, your sanity is probably a lost cause by now,” Andrew mused aloud.

That earned him yet another virulent look, but again, Neil didn’t argue. “Do you have any idea what you’re agreeing to with this? To helping me anytime I go outside?” He might be scowling, but there was an oddly hopeful note to his voice.

How bad could it be? “You don’t strike me as the shopaholic or social butterfly type, it’ll be bearable. Do we have a deal?”

“What do you get out of it, besides my uncle’s money?” Neil asked, his expression now suspicious.

“You use your talent as little as possible around my family, our colleagues and at work,” Andrew said. “And of course, me. If I find out you’re using it deliberately against them or me? The deal is off.”

Neil nibbled on his bottom lip for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “Agreed, as long as I don’t feel threatened. It’s not like I try to use it under any other circumstance than that.”

Andrew considered that as he undid the zipper to his coat then nodded in turn. “As long as it’s a legitimate threat and not some excuse to get your freak on. You know what I mean,” he added when Neil gave him an exasperated look for the last comment. “Now that we’re in agreement, when was the last time you ate? And what?”

“Uhm….” Neil’s brows drew together (were they a bit darker than they’d been the last time Andrew had seen him? Andrew thought so) as he once more slid his right hand into his left sleeve. “I… ah, an orange and some toast this morning? I was studying all day.”

“ _Eat_ ,” Andrew ordered as he pulled out his phone to text Stuart that he’d call him in another twenty minutes or so and that his idiot nephew was still alive. Also? Under no circumstances was the British bastard to come to the States anytime soon, at least not to bother Neil. “There’s no point to the deal if you’re dead from malnutrition.”

While Neil muttered beneath his breath about bossy Yanks and grabbed the tea kettle from the stove to fill it up with water, Andrew went to check the fridge but stopped in time to grab a paper towel to use as a ‘shield’ while he searched it and then the cabinets for food.

“What are you doing?”

“When’s the last time you went shopping?” There was a carton of eggs which felt almost empty, a bag of oranges, a couple of pomegranates, what looked to be some cooked chicken, and some condiments in the fridge. The freezer had some more chicken and not much else (well, edible at least, there were quite a few ice packs), while there were two cans of soup, a few ramen packages, a bunch of tea, a jar of peanut butter and half a loaf of bread elsewhere in the kitchen.

“Ah, two weeks or so ago?” Neil gave a slight shrug as he skirted around Andrew to grab a can of soup. “I figured I’d go again after the holidays.”

“You were going to live on all of this for another week?” ‘Idiot’ wasn’t strong enough of a word.

Neil shrugged again as he fetched a pan and a can opener. “I’d have managed. If it got really bad, I could have called out for a pizza or something.” He didn’t sound happy about that option, though.

Was it a talent thing or a refusal to trust anyone other than an abusive dead woman? Andrew supposed he’d find out eventually as he threw away the paper towel, done checking out the state of Neil’s pathetic pantry. “Have a spare key to this place?”

In the process of dumping the can of soup (ham barley) into the pot, Neil narrowed his eyes at Andrew in suspicion. “Why?”

“Because I’ll be back tomorrow with groceries and I’m not going to wait around to see if you let me in.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Your uncle’s paying in the end, and there’s no way you’re going to last until after New Year’s with so little food in this place,” Andrew argued. “Give me the key, and if I try anything funny, go ahead and shoot me.” Or try at least.

Neil gazed at him for several seconds as if considering something, then finished scraping the soup into the pot, gave it a quick stir and turned down the heat before nodding once. “I will, you know.”

“You’ll have to deal with your uncle, then.”

“It’ll be worth it.” Neil sounded certain of that, so Andrew made a mental note not to spring too many ‘surprise’ visits on a certain mysterious translator.

Speaking of surprises, it wasn’t one when Neil’s bedroom turned out to be just as boring as the rest of the apartment; a twin bed (really, what adult slept in one of them?), a nightstand with an alarm and a small lamp, a small dresser, and a door leading to what was probably a private bath. Oh, and an open window, of course.

Andrew went to close the damn window while Neil went to the dresser and opened the drawer to fiddle with a small box. “I don’t believe in lies, so here’s another thing. You’ll stop with this fucked-up homage to your mother and keep the damn windows closed before someone tries to break in here or you come down with pneumonia, do you understand? You’ll eat something tonight and you’ll get some rest. Keep doing your hermit shit if you like, but don’t make my job any more difficult than it needs to be, all right?”

He turned around to stand in front of the now closed window and gave Neil an unimpressed look while the young man was still, the key clenched in his left hand. Then Neil huffed and threw it at Andrew with considerable force. “Then you don’t tell Stuart anything personal about me, do _you_ understand? Just that I’m all right, that I’m working and that I’m here.”

Andrew gave a two-fingered salute by way of agreement while he tucked the key away in his coat pocket. “Don’t let your soup burn, I can see myself out.”

“Good riddance,” Neil muttered, and didn’t move until Andrew was on his way out of the bedroom; he noticed as he left that there were a couple of boxes tucked in the one corner which looked unopened.

He also noticed that Neil moved quickly and quietly because the locks to the front door of the apartment clicked into place moments after he closed it behind him.

Once he was out in his car with the engine running, Andrew called Stuart, who was still up. “About fuckin’ time,” Stuart snarled. “How is he?”

“Honestly, a mess.” Andrew didn’t see any reason to lie or pull his punches. “Seems he’s holed himself up in his apartment because of his talent, something about it being too painful to go out with all of the crowds.” He allowed the older man to curse a few times on the other end of the line. “Did you even take that into consideration when you asked him to come visit?”

“He would have flown first class, we would have… _fuck_. This is why he needs to be here, with family. We can keep him safe, can-“

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, he still doesn’t want to see you and I’m willing to bet he’ll go running if any of you appear within twenty feet of him.” Andrew was beginning to think there might have been something to Casper’s ‘don’t trust the family’ rantings after all. Maybe Stuart and the others meant well, but that whole ‘we’ll keep Neil safe’ line set off warning bells in _Andrew’s_ head, he could only imagine what it did to Neil – ‘safe’ didn’t always mean good things, did it? “I’ll be back in the morning to help him out and will keep an eye on him from now on.”

“You were supposed to be doing that in the first place, you shitty bastard,” Stuart spat out as something clanked in the background.

“A better job,” Andrew reiterated as he fought the urge to hang up on the asshole. “I didn’t know the holidays would mess him up.”

“He always got squirrelly, this time of the year. We thought… well, there’s a few reasons for it.”

That wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was growing late and Andrew wasn’t in the mood to talk. “All you need to know is he doesn’t want any of you around but he’ll put up with me.” Barely.

Stuart cursed for a couple of seconds then sighed. “Keep me up to date, I want weekly check-ins, yeah? And he better not go missing again.”

There was a clear ‘or else’ there, but the man didn’t frighten Andrew. “I’ll be sure to update you with an itemized bill of everything I spend on your idiot nephew,” he informed Stuart before he hung up, and threw the still muted phone onto the passenger seat before he put the GS into gear and left the parking lot.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered to himself as he pulled onto the main road, more than a little disbelieving at the way the day had ended – that he’d made a deal to play babysitter to a psychic, ghost-loving idiot. An attractive, psychic, ghost-loving idiot with no sense of self-preservation.

Dammit, he shouldn’t have bought Renee a new travel knapsack for Christmas, and he’d already given it to her so he couldn’t return the stupid thing. So she’d not only gotten something nice, but she’d be all annoying when she found out (and _of course_ she would) about things at work in another day or two.

All he was doing was honoring the deal he made with Stuart and keeping one (attractive) psychic, ghost-loving idiot with no sense of self-preservation from doing something too stupid, that was it. He was partially responsible for Neil’s current condition, and while he didn’t feel guilty about anything… he had some obligation to make things better.

That was all.

He’d managed to get rid of Casper and have things calm down at the Foxhole Court without too much trouble, surely he’d figure out a way to have Neil learn how to deal with his freaky talent easily enough, too.

*******             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> OH ANDREW.....
> 
> Yay! Some progression on the whole Andreil front, finally. I mean, it has to happen at some point, we need these boys talking to each other (at least). *checks plot* IT HAS TO HAPPEN SOMETIME.
> 
> Renee may need to get a bit more heavy-handed w/ the hints.
> 
> And please forgive me, I don't work in social services/child services, so while I try, sure I'm messing some things up.
> 
> I always feel like I'm leaving some stuff out here at the end....
> 
> As always, many thanks for the comments and kudos!  
> *******


	7. Drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Still on biweekly for the time being, thank you for your patience!
> 
> And much thanks to @fall-for-the-game for the beta!
> 
> Hmm, warnings in this chapter? Mention of bullying, and of course references to Andrew's past (nothing explicit). I think that's it. Also, don't try to figure out the days in the first scene, I gave up trying to keep track of them and I wrote the darn thing....  
> *******

*******

For a moment after the alarm went off, Andrew lay still and seriously contemplated smashing the damn thing into pieces before he let out a slow breath and turned it off instead. Then he forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen, where he started half a pot of coffee brewing before he went to take a shower. A very hot, long shower.

He didn’t bother with shaving since it was a day off, just brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his towel-dried hair, pulled on a pair of boxers then went to fix a mug of coffee which he drank while he finished getting dressed. There was more coffee and a travel mug filled with the rest before he left the apartment at way too fucking early in the morning to hit the grocery store before it (hopefully) got too crazy, the spare key to Neil’s crappy apartment added to his key ring.

Despite it being around eight am in the morning, the roads were busy with post-holiday shoppers, and the parking lot littered with cars at the grocery store; Andrew surmised that people were there already either on their way home from the early bird sales or in hopes of avoiding the rush later, like him. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before the holiday, but people probably needed to stock up on a few things for any post-holiday meals, were tired of holiday food or looking for sales.

There might be something to what Neil had said, about avoiding the crowds for the next few days.

Andrew parked toward the back of the parking lot and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he walked into the store, displeased with both the early hour and having to deal with people on a day when he should be alone in his apartment. Then again, no one had ever said that life was fair, had they?

No, life was one hell of a biased bitch, in his opinion.

He stared down some woman with a designer purse and a fur coat (what, was the Fresh Market closed so she had to slum at Publix?) as he grabbed the last shopping cart, and ignored her indignant cry while he walked away, busy pulling up a mental shopping list of what he needed to buy (enough to feed a certain idiot along with a few non-perishable items for himself). There’d been a notice that Stuart had sent him more money already, proving that while the man was an asshole, at least he was an asshole who honored the agreement between them.

Andrew made sure to _really_ stock up on the Christmas candy marked down after the holiday as a treat for himself – that and he had a feeling he’d need it after dealing with Neil Josten.

The cashier, an older man whom Andrew saw sometimes on the weekends, gave him a strange look while ringing up everything, probably over all the fruit and the lack of ice cream; Andrew merely stared back until it was time to pay then walked away.

It took some effort, but he managed to hook the handles of all the bags intended for Neil over his wrists then head into the apartment building, and ride the elevator up to the appropriate floor since he refused to make multiple trips back to his car. Once at the front door to Neil’s apartment, he set several of the bags down on the floor, his right wrist and hand sore, and fetched out his keys so he could enter after a quick knock.

“Better be dece-hey!”

Apparently, Neil wasn’t kidding about the gun; the idiot stood several feet away, once again dressed in an overlarge sweatshirt and loose cotton pants, his dark brown hair a mess, with what looked to be a semi-automatic gun pointed at Andrew’s chest.

“Well? Shoot me or put it away,” Andrew said as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Neil huffed once before he lowered the weapon. “Text me before you come over next time,” he chided, then disappeared into the bedroom for several seconds; when he came back out, it was without the gun.

“I told you I’d be by this morning,” Andrew reminded as he carried the bags into the kitchen then dumped them onto the table. “Is your memory that bad?” he asked as he fished out the breakfast sandwiches he’d bought on the way from the grocery store.

“’Morning’ can mean up until noon, technically.” Neil waited until Andrew stepped aside to approach the table then began searching through the purchases, a slight frown on his face and the sleeves of his shirt pulled down as far over his fingers as possible. “Uhm… thank you,” he added in a faint voice as if surprised by everything.

Andrew grunted quietly and bit back on a comment about Stuart paying for the damn things. He set one of the sandwiches on the counter and resisted the urge to lean back against it while he watched Neil start to unpack the bags and put stuff away, only to give in to the urge to ask the question which had nagged at him ever since he’d learned about Neil’s talent after a few bites. “Just how much can you pick up from something I’ve touched?” From touching _him_ , but they’d work up to that one.

“Hmm?” Neil glanced up from the bag filled with non-perishable items (paper towels and toilet paper, decent brands so he shouldn’t bitch too much) and blinked a couple of times as if distracted. “’Pick’- oh.” He set the double-pack of paper towels aside so he could rub the tips of his fingers together. “You?” He seemed to consider the question for a moment before he shrugged. “You’re actually one of the better people I’ve come across in regards to that,” he explained as he grabbed the towels and went to put them in a lower cabinet near the sink. “Somehow, you’ve built up really good mental walls which means I don’t sense too much from you.” When he returned to the table, he seemed to purposely place his hand on top of a plastic bag. “A little annoyance and exhaustion, a bit of hunger, the thought that I’m an idiot,” that earned Andrew an aggrieved look, “but that’s it. I’m getting more from the person who bagged them than you, to be honest.”

A strong sense of relief nearly made Andrew slump back against the counter, which he gave into after careful consideration since it was more comfortable than just standing there while he ate. “Is that common?”

“No, not at all, or else I wouldn’t have such a problem.” Neil grimaced while he lifted his hand and rubbed it along his chest for a few seconds, then resumed putting away the groceries. “I mean, it’s not perfect, but it’s a lot better than blasts of emotion and flashes of people’s lives most of the time.”

No, not perfect at all, but as long as he stayed out of reach, it would be doable, being around Neil without worrying too much about the young man invading his privacy – even if they touched, it sounded like he had some sort of defense against Neil’s talent. _Some_. Guess some good had come out of repressing things for so long, who would have thought.

Ha, Bee was _so_ wrong about that.

Neil was quiet, both verbally and physically, as he continued to put away the groceries, every now and then giving Andrew an odd look over an item. He grabbed the old carton of eggs and a butter dish from the fridge, fetched a slice of bread from the box and then a can of beans from a cabinet (which hadn’t been there the night before, and they looked strange to Andrew even if they were a familiar brand) then set everything near the stove. “Uhm, some tea?”

Andrew nodded since he was thirsty and watched Neil put the water on for their drinks.

“Thank you,” Neil repeated once that was done and he had dumped the beans into a small pot. “You did a good job with the groceries.”

“Some of us know how to adult,” Andrew remarked, only to let out a slow breath when Neil’s narrow shoulders tensed. “The store was pretty busy, even this early.”

“Yeah.” Neil frowned as he cut out the center of the bread for some reason, then added the rest to the pan where the butter was sizzling. After a few seconds, he cracked the egg into the open center of the bread.

Huh. Andrew watched it all with fascination and, even though he’d just finished the breakfast sandwiches, went over to pick up the abandoned piece of bread when Neil moved on to fuss with a teapot. That made the younger man stiffen in surprise at his presence, but Neil didn’t try to touch him, just took a slight step aside. For a moment, Andrew noticed that despite Neil’s unkempt appearance, he smelled of fresh soap and shampoo, something generic and a little astringent.

“What’s with the beans?” he asked as a means of distraction.

“Hmm?” Neil blinked quickly as if confused, enough that Andrew swore he caught a flicker of pale blue. “Oh, yeah, they were a gift.” He stepped back some more and around Andrew to turn off the heat beneath the whistling tea kettle. “My family sent them and some other treats that are a bit difficult to find here.” His frown deepened as he poured the hot water into the teapot.

Oh yes, the man’s family sounded terrible – a comment which Andrew kept to himself. “You send them a message yet?”

“One to Stuart last night so he’d stop worrying, and a few this morning to the others to thank them for the gifts,” Neil sighed as he went back to cooking what looked to be his breakfast. “I don’t… I don’t understand why they’re acting so concerned.”

Because more than likely, the idiot had been brainwashed by Casper in their regards over the years, but Andrew was tired and not in the mood to get into an argument. At least he wasn’t freezing, like he’d been last night; while the apartment had a decided chill to it, the windows were closed and he could unzip his coat.

Neil poured two mugs of tea (one of which Andrew added sugar and just bought milk to) then fixed himself a plate of the weird toast/egg thing and beans, which he ate at the small table (in the chair which Andrew hadn’t sat in the night before). Interested despite himself, Andrew grabbed a spoon and the pan, and helped himself to the rest of the beans, which made Neil gape at him. “You… seriously?”

“These taste different,” Andrew commented between bites. Not bad.

Something was muttered in a foreign language (Russian?) while Neil rubbed at his forehead a couple of times then glared at Andrew though overlong bangs. “I should have shot you.”

Probably. “No take-backs,” Andrew informed him as he scraped up another spoonful of beans.

He was rather certain he was being called some sort of bastard in Russian.

Neil ate quickly and neatly, no wasted motion, no wasted food, as if he was in a hurry even though he was in his own home; Andrew had noticed that about the young man when he’d observed him in the break room, only somewhat slowed down by his lunchtime chats with Moreau. While Andrew finished the beans, Neil got up to wash the rest of the dishes by hand and made more tea.

“What do you plan to do for the rest of your vacation?” Andrew asked once the pot was empty and in the sink.

“Continue studying a new language,” Neil answered after a narrow look over the pot, which he began to wash.

“You’re learning a language for fun.” There definitely was something wrong with the man – besides the freaky power thing.

“Translating’s my job,” Neil argued as if that explained everything. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going outside or anything.”

There was that…. “You could binge-watch a show or play a game,” Andrew suggested, and somehow wasn’t surprised when Neil stared at him in confusion. “No online dating?”

Neil’s handsome face twisted in disgust. “I’m not interested in that.”

Hmm, okay, not the usual response. “Guess it’s difficult to get it on with your undead mother hovering around all the time.” Or so one hoped.

The disgust grew more potent as Neil stepped away from Andrew. “That’s… _no_. I’m not interested in people like that, anyone,” Neil spat out in a hurry as he wiped his hands clean on the front of his sweatshirt. “And why are you still here?”

“Good question.” Andrew gave him a slight nod before heading toward the front door now he was reminded that his duty had been fulfilled for the time being and his belly was full. “Behave yourself, and I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“Fuck off,” Neil called after him, right before he stepped out into the hallway.

Andrew thought about it as he lit a cigarette on the way to his car, and surmised that sensing what a person felt or thought upon touching them might make ‘dating’ a bit difficult, let alone having a controlling (undead) mother around all of the time. Though Neil seemed to indicate that he wasn’t attracted to anyone.

Not that it mattered to Andrew, not at all.

He took a nap once he returned home, and spent the rest of his day off sprawled on the couch watching decidedly non-holiday movies and eating leftovers. There was a message from Stuart asking if he had checked in on Neil again, which he only answered to make the man leave him alone.

Back to work in the morning found him waiting for a new pot of coffee to brew and thinking dark ( _darker_ ) thoughts about morons who didn’t have the brain cells or courtesy to brew a fresh pot after finishing the last cup (Seth, he was willing to bet, such a shame the bastard’s lunch was about to end up in the trash). Plans for revenge were temporarily put on hold when a smiling Renee (followed by Reynolds) waltzed into the break room with a large box filled with baked goods. “Did you have a nice Christmas?” she asked as she placed the container of cookies and mini cheesecakes down on the counter.

“No one died.” Andrew grabbed a decorated sugar cookie and made sure to bite off the angel’s head while staring at Renee.

“Well, the disappointment aside, I hope it was a good one for you,” she said without batting an eye while Reynolds shook her head.

“We really need to go away one year,” Reynolds muttered while she tried to skip the queue and grab the pot of coffee, but was too slow to get to it before Andrew. “Asshole.”

Andrew gave her the finger while he filled his mug, then piled a bunch of cookies on a paper towel to take with him to his office; he paused to give Renee a pointed look to which she responded with a slight nod while Reynolds pounced on the coffee pot.

She came to visit before lunch on what was a slow day, with half of his cases spending time with their ‘families’ (foster or not) until after the new year. “Katelyn said that the dinner went well.”

“No one got sick so I suppose.” Andrew leaned back in his chair while Renee rolled her eyes. “How about you? Some fancy take-out for you and Reynolds?”

“We had a nice dinner out for Christmas Eve, but she came to the church and helped with the dinner we held for the homeless.” The smile on Renee’s face just then was sickening. “It was a wonderful day.”

He made a slight retching noise and ignored the glint in her dark eyes that followed. “I had my own little charity project going on, I’ll have you know.”

“Hmm.” She paused to take a sip from the mug of tea she’d brought along, her attention focused on him. “Anything to do with why you left early on Christmas?”

Dear Katelyn telling tales, or possibly Nicky. “One might say.” He picked up a pen and began to fiddle with it. “One might say it had to do with a rather irate call I received from our dear friend Stuart, inquiring about the whereabouts of his miscreant nephew.”

Renee’s dark brows drew together as she sipped her tea and seemed to ponder that statement. “Neil was supposed to go visit his family.”

“Ding, ding, ding, give the lady a prize,” Andrew declared as he pointed the pen at her. “’Supposed’ to go visit, indeed. It seems he told his family one thing and us the other, and simply stayed put in his apartment. Claimed that the holidays are too overbearing for him to deal with and was well on his way to starving himself while he pulled some stupid hermit shit.”

“Hmm.” Renee stared into the mug for a couple of seconds before she let out a slow breath. “He _is_ very powerful, and it seems like he’s keeping everyone here at arm’s length in part because of his talent. He must want to avoid being around anyplace that’s too crowded or filled with people when they’re experiencing strong emotions.” She sipped her tea and looked up at him. “I told you that I saw Mary intervene a time or two when people got too close to him. She probably acted as a buffer of sorts to ensure that he wasn’t overwhelmed by his talent.”

“Well, not anymore, now apparently I’m stuck doing that.” Andrew tapped the pen against the knuckles on his left hand. “Think I can get away with slamming annoying people into walls or throwing stuffed animals at them, too?”

“Not without assault charges while you’re still alive,” Renee informed him with a slight smile. “And now you’re taking your agreement with Stuart seriously? Really?”

“It’s apparent that someone has to look after the idiot, and I’ll have to replace the GS one day. Might as well start saving up now.” He’d bought the car with his portion of the life insurance from ‘dear’ Tilda’s death and used the rest to pay for university expenses since the scholarship hadn’t covered everything. He didn’t regret his choice of a career, but it wouldn’t hurt to be able to save up a bit more for a house and future expenses.

That and any responsibility he might have toward Neil were the only reasons why he was watching over the idiot.

There was no call for Renee to give him such a pleased, knowing smile right then. No call at all.

“I made a promise Stuart, too, so let me know if I can help,” she said after another sip of tea. “Though I feel he may… ‘connect’ better with you.” Her dark brows drew together as she let out a slow breath. “I don’t think he feels comfortable with me. It wasn’t just you he touched, you know, and he seemed to get a good glimpse of my past.”

Of ‘Natalie’, she meant, which was interesting, especially after the bit of truth Neil had offered up yesterday. “He told me that he doesn’t get that much when he touches items I’ve handled,” Andrew admitted, “that I’ve good mental shields. I assume that means he hadn’t picked up too much the two times we touched.” Considering… well, it wasn’t too much of a stretch for Neil to ‘pick up’ on Drake and the ‘please’ thing since some memories weren’t ever too far from the surface, that and why Andrew wore the armbands.

Renee nodded, both of her hands wrapped around the mug. “I’m working on some meditations that’ll help with my mental shields, that’s something which a colleague in Tlemcen told me I need to improve. But you….” She gave him an intent look. “You’ve always had a feel to you, a sense of walls….” She hummed a little before she finished her tea. “Hmm, perhaps I should say strong defenses? Yes, that’s better. I’m not surprised Neil doesn’t pick up much from you and it’s part of the reason why I didn’t warn you when I suspected him of having that talent.”

He gave her the finger while he threw the pen down on the desk. “Casper might be gone but now I’m stuck being his babysitter. Which means… what, I have to take him shopping and shit?”

“Probably best to bring him to work and take him home, too,” Renee informed him with a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “So he doesn’t risk running into people.” When Andrew glared, she held up her right hand. “I can do it if you don’t want to.”

“If this is your-“

“Stuart was right about not drawing negative attention to him,” she said in serious manner. “Which means making sure that people don’t realize what he can do, such as run into him and kick off his talent. Mary… well, she was well on her way to being a poltergeist if she wasn’t one already since she’d been dead too long _and_ was so overprotective, but she had several reasons to want to protect Neil. Do you have any idea what someone could do with his talents?” When Andrew clicked his tongue and stared at her, she continued on with fervor. “They could force him to spy on people, either a government or a corporation or just someone wanting to hold that information against a person, could gain access to powerful, terrible secrets. He could use ghosts as well, could blackmail people by threatening to exorcise their loved ones or even weaponize the undead, Andrew. I don’t believe his family want to use him but to keep him safe, to keep him from being used, and we have to help them.”

Dammit, Andrew refused to believe that Casper had done any good by isolating Neil, but Renee had a point in that Neil needed to be protected and watched over (since he was a fucking idiot). “And what about you, eh? You might not be as powerful as him, but you can see ghosts, too, and you seem to be quite good at guessing what will happen from time to time.”

A slight blush spread across Renee’s face as she took to tugging on her cross. “Well… that’s where the church helps me, you see. Stephanie and them have kept me safe all these years and I’m indebted to them, and I’m careful not to let many people know about what I can do. You and Jean are the only ones to know about the ghosts, and only you about the visions.” A sad smile twisted her lips. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell Allison, but it’s not… it’s not the easiest thing to bring up.”

Andrew made a sound of disgust as he grabbed his own mug of coffee and stood up to leave. “No, _no_ relationship talk, that’s it. You want help, go talk to Bee or Wilds or someone, I’m done here,” he told a bemused Renee. His life was fucked up enough where he had to deal with the undead and too-attractive liars with superpowers, he had to draw the line _somewhere_.

As if a sign of how the fates truly hated him (which he didn’t need), he ran into Nicky in the break room and had to put up with listening to his cousin ramble on about all the ‘wonderful’ sales he managed to score while Andrew had more coffee and cookies.

He managed to make it through the day without killing or maiming anyone (difficult, but he did it), and went to the gym after work (all of the cookies might be catching up to him). The next day, he had lunch plans with Robin, and somehow stayed awake during a boring as hell meeting with Wymack and most of the staff while the old man rambled on about the budget and shit like that for the upcoming new year (Bee _may_ have kicked him in the ankle once or twice).

Friday night was back at Eden’s, which was packed since it was between holidays; it seemed that people were even more desperate than usual to let go of their inhibitions, to ‘have fun’ and get drunk. Kevin disappeared for a couple of hours and came back with disheveled hair and clothes and smelling of sex, but he was an adult so Andrew didn’t care as long as his friend was in a good mood (for once) and showed no signs of distress. Aaron and Nicky downed their drinks in a hurry and made the usual spectacle of themselves out on the dance floor, while Andrew… well, it was a rather rushed encounter with Roland in the one storeroom, considering how busy the bar was that night.

It was rushed, but they both got off, so Andrew supposed it was a win/win. Except he thought about Neil _that_ time, too, had the image of the younger man stuck in his head while he jerked Roland and himself off.

He _hated_ Neil, and he hated Renee, too.

Yet despite that, he showed up on Saturday morning (late Saturday morning) at Neil’s apartment, mindful to text the man once he reached the parking lot that he was on his way up. Neil ‘greeted’ him at the door with a scowl on his face which turned into confusion as he took in the box of pastries held in Andrew’s left hand. “Why are you here?”

“Making sure you’re still alive,” Andrew said as he glanced around the small apartment; things appeared much the same as the last time he’d visited. If he had to guess, he’d say that he’d interrupted Neil as he’d been curled up on reclining chair, tucked beneath a thick quilt since it was thrown to the one side with a laptop and a mug on the small coffee table. “Still studying?” Someone led an exciting life.

“Yes,” Neil sighed as he went to the table to pick up the mug. “Look, you could have just sent a text or something and saved yourself the trip. I still have plenty of food left.”

Andrew grunted quietly as he headed into the kitchen to check for himself, unwilling to merely trust the word of a known liar. Neil followed while swearing in what sounded to be Chinese, the scowl back on his face as he went over to the tea kettle.

“Make me a cup,” Andrew ordered as he set the box down then opened it so he could grab a cherry Danish.

“Why should I?”

It was interesting how Neil always had contacts in, no matter when Andrew visited; one would think that Neil would skip them when he was home by himself, but nope, fake eyes always in and roots always colored. “Because I don’t see a coffee maker in this barren place,” Andrew said between bites.

“That’s… whatever,” Neil muttered as he filled the tea kettle with fresh water then fetched a clean mug. “You’re an asshole,” he declared when Andrew began to check the cabinets and fridge. “It’s only been a couple of days, how could I eat that much?”

“How could a ghost nearly break my ribs?” Andrew countered, which made Neil curse some more in Chinese. “Improbable things happen around you.”

“I’m beginning to regret not going to Norway right now,” Neil said as if speaking out loud while he measured tea leaves to pour into the rinsed-out teapot.

“You and me both.” Andrew stared at the cans of weird baked beans before he grabbed one of them to set down on the counter to take home.

That earned him a narrow look but Neil didn’t say anything, he just came over to look inside the box of pastries and, after a few seconds’ perusal, selected a croissant; it looked as if he might have recently done his hair since the dark brown was shinier than usual, and wore a sweatshirt from some UK university (overlarge, as usual). “So I take it no plans for New Year’s Eve,” Andrew found himself asking while he waited for the hot water to boil.

Neil shuddered as if in horror and shook his head. “If you mean going to some party or leaving my flat, then _no_. Not with so many drunks out.” At Andrew’s arched look, he shook his head again. “Drinking tends to lower what little mental barriers people have.”

Andrew wondered if that was why he hadn’t seen any alcohol in Neil’s apartment, and found it interesting that Stuart had drunk the one time. Did that mean that the older man didn’t have any powers along the lines of Neil’s? “You must be fun at parties.”

That earned him a sour look. “How about we scrape your skin raw and dunk you in vinegar, see how you feel then, eh? Think it’ll be all happy and sociable?”

Neil may be a liar and a freak, but he made a good point. “No parties for you, but what are you going to do when you’re back at work in a few days? When everyone asks how things were with the trip and seeing your family again?”

It was quiet while Neil finished the last bite of the croissant then poured the hot water into the waiting teapot before he answered the question. “I tell them that my uncle was a bit of an ass, which is true, and I’m sure I won’t see my family again any time soon.” Neil did an arch look of his own once the tea kettle was returned to the stove then folded his arms over his chest. “Which is also the truth, and people tend to back off when it sounds like family drama is involved.”

Andrew had to hand it to the bastard, he certainly knew how to ‘lie’ very well, to skate along the fine edge between the truth and falsehood. “It sounds like you’ve been doing this for a while.”

Nothing else was said while Neil fiddled with the teapot. “Why do you want to know? Are we still doing our truth for truth game? I’ve been cooperative because you’ve helped me out with the food and I’d rather deal with you than Stuart, even though you worked with him to take away my mother.” Something dark flashed across his face at the mention of Casper. “Don’t think all’s forgiven on that front.”

“But you do need me,” Andrew reminded the idiot. “I kept your uncle from showing up here the other day, and if you want that to continue… then yes, we’ll go on with the little ‘game’ and I’ll be here on Thursday to take you to work and then bring you back home, to take you grocery shopping and on any other errands you need so you don’t have to worry about your freaky power acting up.”

“What?” Neil appeared surprised by the offer, by Andrew agreeing to do all of that, and took to chewing on his bottom lip while he considered things; there was still Casper’s death between them, was still all the mistrust, but Neil needed someone to help him keep his power a secret and Andrew had already agreed to do just that.

“I hate you,” Neil declared as he poured the tea into the waiting mugs.

“The feeling’s mutual.” More or less.

“Fine.” Neil’s dark (fake) eyes narrowed as he handed the one mug to Andrew. “Obviously, we’ll skip the handshake this time.”

How amusing. “That leads to my first question – just how much do you pick up from me when we touch? The same as any objects I’ve handled?” Just how much of his past had Neil seen?

Neil frowned as he held the mug wrapped with both hands, his skin protected by the fabric of the sweatshirt. “I told you already that you have strong mental shields and I only got some emotional impressions and a few mental images. I don’t ‘get’ as much from you as I do other people.”

Which meant that more than likely, Neil had already used the worst of it against Andrew and him pushing right then would make the man suspicious of the little bit that had been ‘picked up’. “Try to ‘read’ me again and I’m chopping off your fingers,” he promised.

“That wouldn’t stop me,” Neil sneered. “And you’d be dead soon afterward.”

“What, you don’t trust your family or want them around, but you’ll call on them to do some dirty work?” Andrew asked while he went after some milk and sugar for his tea.

“They tend to deal with threats against me, what can I say?”

That made Andrew pause for a moment. “There been that many of them?”

Neil gave him that cruel smile, enhanced by the steam rising from the mug of tea and tousled dark hair framing his handsome face. “Ah, ah, you’re asking on credit right now.”

He was an idiot, but he was a clever idiot, Andrew had to give him that. “What do you want to know?” he asked while he dumped a few teaspoons of sugar into his tea, which made the cruel grin falter into distaste.

“Who all knows about my powers, here? Who else have you told?”

“No one.” When Neil huffed in disbelief, Andrew shook his head. “Renee knew about them on her own, and Moreau’s all on you, at least for the ghost thing. As far as I can tell, Wymack just knows that something odd is going on, not that you can see ghosts and find out shit by touching stuff, and everyone else is in the dark, too. Considering that Renee’s just as much of a freak as you, it’s not like we can rat you out without her getting in trouble.”

That seemed to appease Neil after a few seconds; he nodded once then sipped his tea; during the time, Andrew had a bear claw to go along with his own drink. Once the pastry was gone, he drank some of his tea then cleared his throat. “One more question.”

“Seems to me I’m owed a few, but what?” Neil asked; he was leaning against the counter with his bangs falling into his eyes, appearing bored and as if he had all the time in the world on his hands (which was mostly true, at least for a couple more days).

“Just how powerful is your family?” Stuart had acted as if he could cause a lot of grief for Andrew and Renee if they crossed him, as well as if money was no object when it came to keeping Neil safe. Which begged the question – what the hell was Neil doing in Columbia translating at Palmetto Services, living in some shitty apartment?

Neil gazed at him for a couple of seconds as if considering if he wanted to answer the question before he let out a measured breath. “Powerful enough to back whatever threat Stuart told you. They have money, which I’m sure you’ve figured out since my uncle’s paying you something, and they prefer to operate… unnoticed, shall we say? Unnoticed by most people, that is.”

Andrew thought about that while he drank more tea and scoffed. “What, they’re criminals? Or have criminal connections?” When all Neil did was give him a steady gaze in return, he frowned, the expression slight, and finished his drink while he thought about that non-answer.

Well, it certainly explained Neil and Stuart’s penchant for guns, didn’t it? And Neil’s one referral being an ex-con. What did it mean for Neil’s past though, hmm? Stuart had said that Neil’s childhood had been fucked up, to paraphrase it, had been a nightmare of pain which implied abuse. From what Neil had insinuated, his father was to blame.

Bad enough to turn Mary into Casper?

Somehow, Andrew didn’t think Neil would appreciate questions along those lines, not without asking him something so personal in return. And sure enough, he had to pay for the questions he’d already asked.

“Your turn now, before I leave you to your exciting day of learning verb tenses,” Andrew said as he dumped the empty mug in the sink.

“Better than dealing with you,” Neil mumbled as he wiped the counter where Andrew had been standing clean of sugar and pastry crumbs. “Why does ‘please’ bother you so much?” He was frowning while he asked as if confused.

On the one hand, it indicated that Neil hadn’t done more than scratch the surface of Andrew’s mind in regard to that particular issue, and on the other…. Wrapped up in the sticky web of a promise and the uneven balance of already uttered truths, Andrew felt the recently eaten sweets turn sour and heavy in his stomach while old (detested) memories rushed to the surface. “Because someone told me if I said it enough, he would _stop_ ,” Andrew replied, and waited to see if Neil asked anything else or figured it out.

“Stop? What was he do-ah!” Neil’s ugly fake eyes widened while the bare tips of his fingers twitched before his hands raised to his head where those fingers buried in his unruly hair to yank on the strands. “Oh, no,” he breathed out as his eyes closed and the color drained from his face. “No.”

“I thought you said you didn’t pick up much from me,” Andrew said, his voice harsh from both the thought of Neil lying to him and ‘seeing’ his past.

“I… I didn’t.” Neil’s voice was hoarse and hardly more than a whisper as his eyes drifted open, his expression haunted and gaze distant. “But the little I did… now that you explained… it’s like when she-“ He stopped speaking and shook his head as if to drive out some terrible thought or memory.

“Like who?” Andrew asked (demanded to know) as he stepped forward with his hands clenched into fists.

“ _No_.” Neil’s tone was final and he pointed toward the front door; Andrew noticed that he wore iron rings on his fingers since the sleeves had slipped down enough to leave them bare. “I’m not ‘playing’ anymore, not today, so leave.”

For a moment Andrew hesitated, torn over wanting answers, torn over… he didn’t really know, entirely, but Neil had said ‘no’ and to leave, which he had to respect.

“Thursday,” Andrew reminded the… whatever the hell Neil was, before he turned to leave so he could go home and get very _, very_ drunk.

*******

“Seriously?” Neil asked with disbelief while Andrew selected eight pints of ice cream from the cooler. _Eight_. “How do you still have teeth left?”

“Good dental hygiene,” the asshole remarked as he put the frozen sweets in his half of the cart then resumed pushing it. “That and dairy contains plenty of calcium.”

“Also tons of sugar. Forget your teeth, how are your kidneys still functional?” When all Andrew did was give him the finger by way of a reply, Neil rolled his eyes as he tagged along. “Obviously, the _balanced_ diet has led to decreased cognitive function.” There was just a little sarcasm employed then.

“I don’t want to hear it from a man who lives on oranges and ramen,” Andrew sneered – or what passed for a sneer from him.

“I eat more than that,” Neil argued.

Andrew gave a pointed look at the grocery cart – well, Neil’s half of the cart – and scoffed.

Not for the first time, Neil dearly wished his talent was telekinesis and not psychometry, because then he could shove a certain American asshole face first into a cooler (or wall, or out a window, or into oncoming traffic…). He’d say that shopping with Andrew was an ‘adventure’, but the truth of the matter was, doing much of anything with the man outside of their cases often led to bickering and Neil needing to count from one to ten (at least) in various languages to control his temper.

If he didn’t need the bastard so much….

Grocery shopping no longer was a painful ordeal thanks to Andrew (that and the holidays being over for the time being), who handled the shopping cart and often the items as well (Neil did insist on selecting his own fruit), who would give cold stares to anyone who came too close or didn’t get out of their way, who paid for the items (Neil’s _and_ his) with money that Uncle Stuart provided.

Neil would be upset about that last part… except it meant that he had more money growing in his own account for when it came time to leave, so why not let his uncle’s guilt work in his favor?

The frozen section being their last stop before checking out, they went to pay for everything; when it was their turn at the register, Andrew directed the bored teenager doing the bagging to separate the items (and place his precious ice cream in insulated bags) while Neil did his best to stay out of the way.

Once everything was packed and paid for, they made their way to the man’s expensive car so Andrew could drive Neil home first; Neil had grown used to riding in the thing the last few weeks due to not only their shopping trips but to Andrew picking him up each weekday morning to take him to and from work.

He still didn’t quite grasp _why_ Andrew did all of it, other than a sense of determination and that Stuart probably paid well. Neil’s uncle continued to call and text, to offer up apologies, while he barely talked to the rest of the family – only enough to keep them complacent, to keep them in the UK and assured that while he was upset with them, he wasn’t going to do anything ‘foolish’.

He barely talked to Andrew even though they saw each other nearly every day, other than to argue over things like ice cream and how Andrew wasn’t going to take the damn stairs so Neil was getting in the fucking elevator.

Neil might be counting down the days until he could leave Columbia.

Though he wasn’t sure what he’d do once completely on his own, without anyone who knew about his talents who could act as a buffer against the world like Andrew did (like Mary had done). As much as Andrew infuriated him with his blank looks and dispassionate voice and biting comments, with the insults to Neil’s mother and intelligence… Andrew was there as promised and appeared to take his ‘job’ seriously.

When they reached Neil’s apartment, Andrew parked the car and walked him to his flat when he could have let Neil go off on his own, made sure he reached the front door without anyone bothering him then gave him a quick nod before walking away.

Andrew was there the next morning, a hint of surliness on his face (only a hint) as he let himself in to the flat, keys held in his right hand and a travel mug of coffee in his left. He gave Neil an unimpressed look (which wasn’t anything unusual), which changed when Neil handed over the egg sandwich he’d made for breakfast.

“What, is it poisoned?” Andrew asked as he accepted the plate.

“Not hungry,” Neil admitted; he’d tried to eat something, to follow the long-ingrained rule that one ate whenever they could, when the food was on hand… but the dream from the night before had been too fresh on his mind. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

Andrew gave him an intent look for a couple of seconds before he set the travel mug on the coffee table so he could hold the plate and grab the sandwich; as expected, the bottomless pit that was Andrew’s stomach was always willing to be filled.

Busy munching on the sandwich, Andrew followed Neil into the kitchen, where he’d left his bagged lunch; once there, he finished his tea and left the mug in the sink once he rinsed it clean. “Rough night? Some adverbs get the better of you?” Andrew asked as he added the plate to the sink.

“Something like that.” Neil gave him a flat smile as he motioned that they could leave.

“I’m sure.” Andrew tore the last bit of the sandwich in half and popped a piece in his mouth, his gaze heavy on Neil, but didn’t say more than that as they walked out of the flat. Whatever look he gave to the guy at the end of the hall who tried to join them in the elevator made the fellow decide he was perfectly fine with taking the stairs instead, which Neil didn’t mind since it was one of those days when his skin felt a little too raw and his scars ached with remembered pain.

It was bad enough when he dreamed about what his father had done to him, to recall the days down in the basement or the afternoons in the office or the nights spent curled up in the small bed with bandages soaked through with his blood. But the dreams filled with others’ memories? His mother’s and the people his father had murdered and the ones from the years on the run?

They were somehow so much worse.

All Neil wanted was to get through the day as quickly as possible, to hide in his office as much as he could (to not deal with people) then go for a run after work in hopes of clearing his head and exhausting himself enough that he could just collapse in bed and sleep until morning. Maybe it was a lot to ask for, but that was his plan.

Of course it didn’t go that way.

Matt took one look at him then glared at Andrew. “What the hell did you do to him?”

In the process of putting away his lunch, Neil paused in reaching for the fridge’s handle and blinked while Andrew’s face went blank (blanker?). “Uhm, Matt? What do you-“

“Did you give him shit?” Matt yelled as he took a threatening step toward Andrew. “I don’t know what’s going on with you pretending to be nice all of a sudden, but did-“

Seeing Andrew’s hands ball into fists, Neil threw his lunch onto the counter and hurried between the two men. “Matt! It’s fine, he didn’t do anything! Just calm down, okay?” He held up his hands then gritted his teeth when Matt grabbed him by the upper arms to pull him away from Andrew, grateful for the thick fabric of his sweater.

“Let him go, Boyd,” Andrew warned in a tone of voice that Neil had only ever heard in reference to his mother. “Now.”

“Are you okay?” Matt asked as he pulled Neil away from Andrew. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Neil insisted through clenched teeth, uncomfortable at being so close to Matt, at being held by someone. “Could you let go? Oh, and stop blaming Andrew, it’s not his fault.”

Matt didn’t appear convinced of that last part, but he finally released Neil so he could resume glaring at Andrew, who might have done more than glare back if it weren’t for the fact that Renee and Allison had shown up. “Wow, Matt, too much protein in the diet or what? Dan being too much of a top so you have to exert yourself somehow?” Allison asked with clear amusement.

“Huh? Oh, ha, very funny!” Matt shook his head while Neil scooted away from his colleague; he noticed that Renee had stationed herself between Matt and a tense Andrew. “Just look at Neil, the poor guy looks terrible.”

“Bad night,” Neil murmured as he rubbed at his left eye with the heel of his left hand while he made himself a mug of tea. “That’s all.”

“Some moron jumped to conclusions,” Andrew added as he put Neil’s lunch in the fridge and grabbed the container of flavored creamer, probably so he could fix himself his usual sweetened coffee. “Seems to think I’m beating up Neil, even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to take it.”

“Well, I do willingly associate with you, that’s not the strongest argument,” Neil pointed out as he added hot water to the mug.

Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed as if he wasn’t amused. “I correct myself – you are indeed that stupid if you think I’d stop short of anything other than homicide.”

“Seems like an awful lot of effort on your part, especially this early in the morning.”

“I’d just shove you from the car once we were on the highway.”

Neil considered that while he played with the teabag in the hot water. “Not bad. Not entirely foolproof, but not bad.”

Meanwhile, Matt gaped at them for some reason while Renee had a huge smile on her face and Allison checked out the box of pastries someone had brought in (probably Nicky). “I don’t know which one of you two is more messed up, which is saying something,” she informed them while she selected a muffin. When Neil and Andrew silently pointed to each other, Allison scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Right, you’re both messed up, it’s officially a tie.”

As if having reached his limit of dealing with people (which never was much, from what Neil had witnessed), Andrew gave her the finger while he snatched up the entire box of remaining pastries then his coffee before he walked out the door.

“Hey! Don’t be so greedy,” Matt called after him; Neil used that as a distraction to throw out his teabag then leave as well. “Let me know if you’re free for lunch!” Matt shouted as he fled the break room.

That wasn’t likely to happen, not when Neil was still avoiding spending time with his coworkers other than Jean (and Andrew, though that wasn’t so much done by choice). Matt and Dan had renewed their efforts to befriend him after the new year, which grew annoying; he didn’t understand why they insisted on talking to him, kept inviting him over for dinner or out to movies and concerts and… he didn’t understand any of it. People had always been content to ignore him and his mother all those years on the run, to treat them as outsiders (unless they worked for his father).

The session with Peter went by quickly, since the boy was beginning to learn English due to the effort of his foster parents. It would probably take a few months before there wasn’t a need for Neil to translate anymore, and by then the boy’s father would have his day in court. Neil stood off to the side and corrected Peter’s fumbled attempts to speak English and translated the words he didn’t understand yet, the tension between him and Andrew gone.

Allison had resumed arguing with him about his clothes, though she waited until Camila was gone for the day to bring up the topic. “Just when I think I’ve seen the last of the ugly sweaters, you surprise me with a new one.” Her upper lip, coated with a matte red lipstick, curled in an elegant sneer as she tapped a wine-red nail on his right sleeve. “You won’t wear the stuff I got for you, but you bought a new atrocity?”

“It’s not new, I just… I just usually wear it at home,” he admitted about the top, which was comfortable and soft – that and when he went to do laundry the previous evening, there had been people in the room so he’d returned to his flat to wait another day.

“Aw, are you slumming today?” Allison smiled as they walked toward the door together. “Your secret is safe with me, I won’t tell Wymack… as long as you let me give you one new sweater to wear.”

“As if he cares anyway, he came into work last week wearing the jersey to Kevin’s amateur lacrosse team,” Neil reminded her.

“Hmm, but he’s the boss, he can do what he wants. You’re but a mere lackey.” She grinned in a victorious manner until Neil sighed and gave a slight nod. “Yes! I always win in the end!”

“ _One_ ,” he stressed before he headed in the opposite direction to his office.

“For now!”

The certainty in her voice made his shoulders twitch and the urge to run come over him, but he forced himself to continue at a normal pace.

“ _She does have an ungodly amount of luck_ ,” Jean mulled while they ate their lunch together. “ _No one likes betting against her since she usually wins_.”

“ _Not what I want to hear_.” Neil frowned at his peanut butter sandwich, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite for some reason; he felt uneasy, still felt unsettled in his own skin.

“ _That doesn’t make it any less true_.” Jean, the French bastard, gave him one of the haughty looks he excelled at before he had a bite of his pasta salad.

“ _I’m not betting against her_ ,” Neil clarified. “ _I just don’t want her dressing me_.”

“ _I don’t see why not, your tastes in clothes are appalling_ ,” Jean sniffed.

“ _They’re functional_.” Neil glared at the man who was supposed to be his friend as he gave up on the sandwich and began peeling the orange instead. “ _It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone_.”

“ _Really_?” For some reason, Jean’s gaze flickered over to where Andrew sat with Kevin, Aaron and Katelyn. “ _I would still think you’d have some concern for how you appear in public. Speaking of which, there’s a small exhibit of Rodin’s artwork in town, would you like to go_?”

That should be doable if they picked a good time. “Sure.” Neil felt a bit better upon seeing Jean’s pleased smile. “ _Not Jeremy’s thing, hmm_?”

Jean gave a slight shrug as he poked at his salad. “ _He tries, but no, not his thing. So we’ll go and he can spend the time helping Kevin coach his team or visit his family_.”

Neil tried not to be jealous of someone who still had family that they could visit, to not think about his mother, and forced himself to eat his orange while Jean discussed plans for their day out together.

It was toward the end of lunch (when Neil and Jean argued over where they’d eat after the art exhibit), when Neil noticed something _wrong_. After Stuart showing up to exorcise his mother, he’d laid wards around all the entrances of the building, uncaring if Walker or anyone else noticed them, in favor of being forewarned if anyone or anything of a certain nature came into Palmetto Services.

Something just did.

Neil pushed away from the table while Jean insisted on curry for their meal, a sense of dread filling him at the wards being breached by something powerful. Memories of nights long ago, of desperate times spent crashing in abandoned homes and buildings scattered across Europe with his mother and all their belongings carried in a bag each, huddled in a warded room while they used the enraged ghosts to keep everyone else at bay (keep his father’s people at bay) flashed through his mind as Jean called out his name; he ignored his friend as he went out in the hall.

“Something wrong?”

Neil nearly punched Andrew when the man came along side him, so distracted he’d been by that sense of ‘wrongness’. “Uhm, something….” He glanced at Seth hurrying down the hallway, probably intent on a smoke break, and cleared his throat. “ _I think it’s another ghost_ ,” he explained in German.

Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed, the only visible sign of displeasure. “ _How unpleasant_.”

Yes, exactly, and very disturbing, too. They continued on in silence toward the main foyer, where Wymack and Abby were talking with someone wearing a Columbia Child Services coat while a boy who appeared around thirteen or fourteen years old stood there in clean jeans torn at the knees and an oversized dark blue parka, with close-cropped dark blond hair and a smirk on his face.

There was also a poltergeist hovering near him, what appeared to be a slightly older boy marked with decay, eyes glowing red and arms unnaturally long. Neil felt the orange burn in his stomach as if turned into acid, felt the iron rings grow hot around his fingers as he gazed upon the spirit, then spun around to all but run to his office.

He heard Andrew call out to Wymack, perhaps to ask about Palmetto Services’ latest ‘case’, but he didn’t care to learn anything about the boy – not after what he’d seen. Not when he knew what he had to do.

Andrew didn’t bother to knock a few minutes later, he came right into the office and stared for about a minute with his arms folded over his chest while Neil continued to pack up his meager belongings. “You’re going to rabbit on out of here? Really? I guess your uncle was right about you in the end.”

Neil flinched at the mention of Stuart while he checked the drawer of his desk one more time. “What do you care, other than you lose a nice paycheck from him?” That seemed to be everything, so he slid the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder and went toward the door, only for Andrew to stand in his way. “What? I thought you’d be happy to see the last of me.”

“For the most part, but I’m thinking it has to be bad, whatever you saw back there and what knocked over shit while that kid looked too amused for words the entire time.” When Neil’s expression went blank, Andrew nodded once. “So why are you running, hmm? What’s got you so spooked that you’re not sticking around to deal with it?” After a couple of seconds of silence, he clicked his tongue. “Your turn, rabbit.”

The nickname prompted a glare from Neil as he shifted the strap a little higher on his shoulder. “Amusing.” They didn’t often play their ‘game’ and he wasn’t really in the mood, but something told him that Andrew wouldn’t allow him to leave until he gave up something. “You’re right, there’s a powerful ghost, a poltergeist associated with the kid, and that’s exactly why I’m leaving,” he told the pain in the ass. “Because I can see one ghost being here when I arrived, the one tied to Jean. There being another one, Amelia’s brother, showing up not long after I did? That was a bit suspicious. But now there’s yet another ghost, what looks to be an even more powerful poltergeist, in less than a year? That’s beyond suspicious, that’s a sign that I need to get out of here.” So that was exactly what Neil intended to do, a couple of months early.

Andrew mulled on that as he continued to block Neil’s path to the door then shook his head. “Even if you’re correct and someone suspects that there’s a person here who can see ghosts and exorcise them – which may very well be Renee after all the callouts for help she made – all running is going to do is draw attention to you.” He motioned with his right hand to Neil’s bag and then the door. “They’ll notice that you left right after this kid show up, which is suspicious as hell.”

That… dammit, Andrew had a point; Neil nibbled on his bottom lip as he considered that and his chances of leaving Columbia and slipping out of the country unobserved. “Seems to me that there’s a risk either way – me staying here and chancing that it’s not me they’re watching for, or making a run for it.”

“Except if it’s the latter, you’re on your own,” Andrew argued. “You stay here and you’ve got your uncle helping from the UK, and you’ve got me.” When Neil huffed at that, something dark flashed in Andrew’s eyes. “That wasn’t a joke, I’d think you’d realize it after these last few weeks. You stay here, you deal with this latest problem, and you give your back to me. If anyone is testing you, _I’ll_ deal with them.”

Was the man insane? Neil hadn’t picked up any mental instability the two times he’d touched Andrew, but the man did have those impressive mental shields. “Why? What do you get out of this, other than my uncle’s money?” Just how much was Stuart paying Andrew?

Andrew toyed with the cuff of his left sleeve while he gazed at Neil. “I don’t like someone fucking with where my family and I work, and I’ve already sworn to watch over your idiot ass. I don’t need you to make it any more difficult by running off somewhere.” He gave Neil a flat look as he reached out to tug on the bag’s strap. “Stay here and do something useful for once.”

Like working as a translator wasn’t enough? Neil remained still for a moment as he fought the impulse to swat at Andrew’s hand then allowed the bag to be tugged free with ill grace. “What if they suspect Renee and not me?” Shouldn’t Andrew be more concerned for his friend?

“She can take care of herself.”

That… was true, Neil supposed, considering the woman’s past. “Are you going to tell my uncle anything?”

“I’d rather not, until we know something for certain,” Andrew said as he set the bag down on Neil’s desk. “Are you going to deal with the latest Slimer?”

What was it with the man and his need to give everything stupid names? At least he wasn’t involving Stuart and the family just yet. “Yes,” Neil sighed before he continued with some reluctance. “I’ll need Renee’s help since it feels powerful.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted. The two of you can have some quality freak bonding time,” Andrew informed him as he headed for the door.

Maybe Neil _should_ make a run for it.

*******

“Add a little more quartz and calcite,” Neil told Renee, who appeared much too happy just then as she worked on the ‘special’ glue they would use to cage Adam Kuhner’s pesky little ‘friend’; Moreau was helping as well, in-between glares sent Andrew’s way now and then.

Someone didn’t seem to like Andrew too much anymore, ever since the start of the year – since he’d started watching over Neil. There’d been muttered ‘you better not hurt him’s and the like, which was ridiculous and not worth the effort to explain just what Andrew was doing with the idiot.

It was a business transaction, was him honoring his word, plain and simple. His savings account was steadily growing larger and Neil kept his hands (and freaky talent) to himself, so all was good. Andrew had only offered Neil protection so Stuart didn’t get all pissy with him and to keep the extra money flowing in.

That was all.

“I can’t believe Renee’s geeking out over craft-time,” Reynolds muttered as she jabbed a fork into her salad; she’d joined them for lunch in Moreau’s classroom. Not Andrew’s favorite dining crowd, all in all but he didn’t have much of a choice since Adam’s pet poltergeist (named ‘Zuul’) was a destructive little fuck, meaning it needed exorcised as quickly as possible, and Renee had finally ‘fessed up to her poor choice of a life partner.

She’d basically agreed with Neil’s assessment that a second (well, not counting Casper) poltergeist showing up in such a short timespan was suspicious as hell, and while it _may_ have to do with Neil, it might also be because of all the requests for help she sent out. She had ‘faith’ (blech) in the church protecting her, but thought it best to finally clue Reynolds in for the woman’s safety, which meant that Reynolds knew a few things about Neil, too.

“I mean, all she talked about last night and this morning was learning about this stupid glue,” Reynolds continued when all Andrew did was eat his jalapeño, potato chips and cheese sandwich. “Guess they don’t have some helpful wiki for exorcists, do they?”

“Not quite,” he said as he tore off another piece of his lunch while watching Neil add a few drops of some oil to the mix while Renee stirred. “Neil doesn’t like sharing too much.”

“Yeah, he’s really tight-lipped about a lot of things.” Reynolds slanted Andrew a bemused look for a couple of seconds while she had a bite of salad. “Must be how he gets along with you, hmm?”

Andrew went back to ignoring her.

“I mean, he barely talks to anyone but Jean,” Reynolds continued on, undeterred, “but the two of you are carpooling now? And you’re in on his little secret?” Her blue eyes narrowed as she waved her fork in the air. “Which, by the way, I’m a bit annoyed that you were in on it and Renee’s, too, before me.”

Oh, was there trouble in paradise? Say it wasn’t so – not that Andrew cared, other than having to put up with a pouting Renee.

They finished their meal while Renee and Neil tried out the glue, Moreau helping by holding the ladder as they took turns painting wards around the classroom. Once they were done, Reynolds chided the two freaks to eat something. “That stuff will trap ghosts?” she asked as she stood in the center of the room and looked at the drying designs, which ‘faded’ into the off-white paint.

“Actually, they’ll keep out spirits,” Neil explained as he peeled an orange. “We don’t want to trap them in a room with Jean and children.”

Renee shook her head at that, a salad similar to Reynolds’ balanced on her lap. “No, and we’ll ward more of the rooms once we deal with this poltergeist.” She frowned as she loaded her fork with a bunch of leafy crap and sliced chicken breast. “He’s being very destructive.”

“No kidding,” Reynolds drawled as she sat next to her girlfriend. “I mean, I thought it was bad when the weird stuff was going on last year, but the only reason no one’s figuring it out now is because Adam’s always so smug about whatever happens that you know he was involved somehow.” Her defined brows drew together as she glanced at a new ward. “I don’t usually say this, but that kid is trouble.”

For once, Andrew agreed with her; it wasn’t often that they made ‘quick’ judgements like that, but in the week that Adam Kuhner had been at the Foxhole Court, it had become clear that he reveled in the damage his undead ‘protector’ created around the place, and he was a bully on top of it all. Renee had asked Wymack to assign the young man to her, and not even _she_ could say anything good about him.

Abuse and neglect left their marks on a child, left scars that took time, patience and care to heal. While Andrew didn’t believe he’d ever be ‘normal’, he looked at Nicky and Renee as people who seemed able to love someone and manage stable relationships despite everything that had been done to them, and at how Aaron was moving on with his life (even if his choice of a fiancée sucked). One’s past and trauma could be overcome (mostly, by some people).

And sometimes? One’s past and trauma didn’t mean that a person wasn’t an asshole, wasn’t broken in other ways. Andrew believed that Renee and Bee could work their usual magic and yet Adam would always be a bully, would delight in causing harm one way or another. Maybe he’d been damaged too much, maybe he’d been born that way, but Andrew doubted that things would improve with him like they had with Amelia Green, now that she was in a stable foster home and moving on from the loss of her brother.

Sometimes, you had people like Drake, who enjoyed hurting others far too much.

Andrew felt the scars hidden beneath the long sleeves of his black shirt itch, which he forced himself to ignore. “He’ll be much less trouble without a damn ghost slamming people around and breaking things,” Andrew said as he gave Neil a pointed look. “How much longer until things will be ready?” They couldn’t wait too long since Zuul had crossed the line of hurting other kids; Adam was in Kevin’s sport therapy ‘class’ and didn’t have a problem of with letting Zuul get rough when he was out on court.

“We’ll make the wards tonight.” Neil exchanged a glance with Renee, who nodded. “Tomorrow we’ll take care of it during his usual session, I guess.” It was clear that he wasn’t happy with that part of the plan.

“Three kids sent to the infirmary, along with Kevin,” Andrew reminded the idiot; fortunately, it was just for mild sprains, scrapes and bruises, with Kevin taking the brunt of it when he’d ‘dared’ to discipline Adam for the violence, but it was too much. Andrew knew from experience that it would continue to escalate as Adam grew cockier, as Zuul saw everyone as a more of a threat, so they had to put a stop to it _now_ even if Neil worried about the rest of the Foxhole Court figuring out about his talent.

“It’s for the best,” Moreau agreed; he’d grabbed a spot next to Neil, not too close, and Neil didn’t seem upset by his presence. “Everyone’s talking about the strange things going on, and there’s too much danger to the children.”

“I know,” Neil sighed as he set his barely eaten sandwich aside – or tried to, until Reynolds cleared her throat in a loud manner.

“If we do it right, no one should know,” Renee assured him with a smile.

“ _If_.” For some reason, Neil didn’t appear reassured.

The rest of the break was quiet after that, as if everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Andrew left to go check on Bee, to make sure that she was all right and not getting involved with Adam (and Zuul) just yet. As always, she was happy to see him and could only spare a few minutes that day, and no, she didn’t have an appointment with the kid.

Yet.

She did intend to see him in a couple of days, though, which meant that Neil and Renee better get their asses in gear, because Andrew refused to allow his mother to be harmed again. It was bad enough that Zuul had knocked shit over when Katelyn had conducted Adam’s physical his first day at Palmetto Services, enough to rattle the young woman – she might not be Andrew’s favorite person, but Aaron loved her and she didn’t deserve to be treated that way (unless she hurt Aaron).

He got through the rest of the day, including assisting Robin in handling a rough patch with one of her cases and not throttling a whining Kevin who complained about how a sore wrist made coaching difficult and that Andrew should help out for a week or two if he was a good friend. Andrew explained that he was a ‘good friend’ in that he allowed Kevin ten whole seconds to leave his office while still breathing and in one piece, and that was that.

Some days it was more difficult than others to not head down to the infirmary and hit Aaron up for something that would leave him comatose for a year or two.

While everyone else got to go home, he stayed behind with Reynolds, Renee and Neil so they (well, Neil and Renee) could prep the one room in anticipation of the next day; Reynolds had some pizza and drinks delivered. “How did you learn all this ward stuff?” she asked in-between bites of a mushroom-covered slice.

Neil waited until he finished his own slice to answer. “Ah, my mum taught me.” There was a note of sorrow in his voice and he pointedly didn’t look at Andrew and Renee while he spoke. “I was born seeing spirits, so she had to teach me when I was pretty young how to protect myself. It took me a while to learn that not everyone could see them.”

“That’s… that’s messed up.” Reynolds shuddered a little while something sad twisted Renee’s expression. “Still, at least you had someone who believed you, right? They didn’t think you were crazy or anything.”

“No.” It was Neil’s turn to appear sad. “Though I’d rather people think that, to be honest. It’s better than when they want to use the talent for their own benefit.”

Like Neil’s father, from the little Stuart had implied and from what Neil had revealed during their little game of ‘truth for truth’. He was being rather close-lipped about the man, but Andrew had learned that whoever he was, Neil’s father had been an abusive bastard and after him and Mary because of their talents, had caused them to go on the run.

“People are dangerous when they’re after power,” Renee agreed. “That’s why I was always told to be careful about revealing what I can do.”

Determination hardened Reynolds’ expression as she gave Renee a one-armed hug. “Well, we’re not going to let anyone hurt you, either of you. Don’t worry about it, just take care of the ghost and make the place safe again, all right?”

Renee murmured something into her girlfriend’s shoulder while Neil stared off at nothing for a few seconds before he picked up another slice of pizza, which he ate in neat, quick bites. Andrew watched on while he ate a slice of extra cheese pizza, and wasn’t surprised when Neil wiped his hands clean on a napkin afterwards then jumped down from the table he sat on so he could start on the wards.

The sleeves of his dark blue sweatshirt were rolled back after he pulled a chair over to the door, then he went back for one of the jars of the special glue and a brush. When he climbed up on the chair, Andrew clicked his tongue as he grabbed a bottle of flavored water and went over to stand near the door. “If you fall and split your head open, will you come back as a ghost, too?” he asked as he used his left foot to brace the chair.

Neil paused in painting a ward to blink down at him. “It’s not that far of a drop.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

“I wouldn’t be lucky enough to die.” The idiot sounded rather aggrieved over the fact.

No, Andrew supposed neither of them would get off so easy, would they? Especially when he found himself staring at Neil as the other man nibbled on his full bottom lip while painting some intricate pattern on the wall above the door, pink tongue swiping out along abused, plump flesh now and then as if-

Andrew really, _really_ hated Neil Josten.

He really, really, _really_ hated the idiot when Neil jumped down from the chair and wobbled a little as if off-balance, which made Andrew reach out to stabilize him for some damn, insane reason; both of them stilled at the unexpected contact, Neil’s dark (fake) eyes going wide before Andrew forced his traitorous fingers to unclench from Neil’s left elbow.

He also hated the knowing smirk on Reynolds’ ugly face just then.

Neil painted another ward while Renee took care of the remaining two, then they discussed the ‘battle’ plan while the glue dried – Renee and Neil would whammy the poltergeist using their freaky talents and lots of the salt and iron mixture that had been thrown at Casper, while Andrew would deal with Adam. Reynolds had a case at the same time, but she’d do her best to keep the rest of the staff distracted if things got out of hand, and of course Wymack had been warned (by Renee) that ‘something’ was going on.

It was a pathetic, absurd commentary on Andrew’s life when such tête-à-tête’s (more or less) were becoming common occurrences.

Not soon enough, Renee went off with her poor life choice (one of many), which left it to Andrew to take a certain freak of an idiot home. Neil sat huddled in the passenger seat of the GS, teeth once more buried in his full bottom lip as he gazed upon the road ahead through the windshield without really seeing it.

Andrew clicked his tongue as he flicked ash from his cigarette out through the crack in the driver’s side window. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about tomorrow or feel bad for the kid. Displacement much?”

Neil tugged on the sleeves of his too-big coat and sweatshirt enough to give Andrew the finger – well, two of them, really. “It’s not going to go well,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Hmm, I thought Renee was the psychic, not you.”

That earned him a tired sigh for some reason while Neil rubbed at his forehead; Andrew noticed that he wore iron rings on almost all of his fingers and appeared tired, as if he hadn’t slept well the past night or two. “It’s not- I don’t see things, per se. It’s more experience.” Something bitter twisted Neil’s mouth and made him tuck those dangerous hands of his into the full sleeves of his clothes. “Adam knows about his poltergeist and isn’t afraid to allow it free reign, isn’t afraid of the damage it can do. And… well, there’s Adam himself.”

“You mean he won’t care if we get hurt,” Andrew clarified as he thought of Kevin with his banged-up wrist and bruised cheek, about Aaron ranting about tending to those kids. “Did you ever care about what Casper did?”

That made Neil’s mouth twist again, and for a moment Andrew thought he’d pushed too far. “You’re asking on credit again,” Neil said, his voice rough with… with _something_. “If it was an honest threat to either of us? Not really,” he had the grace to admit. “And there were times when I didn’t mind when she got rough with a few assholes, but for the most part, I knew that she only endangered us both if she pushed too far.” A humorless laugh escaped as he huddled even more in his clothes, as he seemed much too small in the seat. “It’s what did her in eventually, right?”

Hard to argue with that; as much as Andrew called him an ‘idiot’, Neil was intelligent and he obviously cared for the children he worked with at the Foxhole Court, or else Andrew wouldn’t give a damn about how much Stuart paid. Andrew also understood the whole ‘you hurt/threaten me and I hurt you’ mindset… and agreed that Adam took things too far. “What, you think Adam will throw Zuul at us without a concern for how it looks?”

“Basically. It’s already acting in a manner that makes it difficult to cover its actions, and Adam clearly enjoys the aftermath. He strikes me as someone who would enjoy scaring us with the ‘power’ he has, even if it exposes the poltergeist, and he won’t like the thought of losing that power.” There was another mirthless laugh. “Never mind that said ‘power’ is someone whose last living thought probably was to watch over him.”

As far as they could tell, the poltergeist was Adam’s older cousin, who’d died a few months ago. The two had grown up together and been shuffled back and forth between each other’s homes and that of a grandmother’s, until the teenager had died in a car accident with the inebriated woman. Neil and Renee agreed that the ghost looked like the cousin… but other than Neil using his talent on Adam or the kid talking, they weren’t entirely certain.

“Are you going to be able to get rid of Zuul?” Andrew asked, not about to have things get fucked up because of any remorse on Neil’s part.

“Yes,” the idiot answered without any hesitation. “Like you said, it’s hurting others and it has to be stopped.”

Then they’d prepare for the worst tomorrow and see it through.

Andrew saw Neil up to his apartment, as usual, and double-checked that there was enough food for another day or two. The place was still on the cool side and spartan, but there weren’t any obvious signs of Neil planning to run right away, and there was a new addition of a padded chair in the living room for when Andrew wanted to sit on something other than the wooden one in the kitchen. _Someone_ hadn’t been too pleased about its arrival, but Andrew (well, Stuart) had paid for it and it kept him out of Neil’s, so he’d won that argument.

Not that he spent much time in the place, it was just that he refused to have to stand around or sit in an uncomfortable chair if he had to wait for Neil to get ready, or if the fool was out running some mornings.

That night Andrew had an odd dream, one which didn’t feature Drake or any of the bastards who’d hurt and used him back in California but one where a faceless, small woman in decaying clothes held him pinned to the floor of an abandoned, desolate Foxhole Court and slowly smothered him while Neil walked away with a bag on his back. Andrew woke with his heart thundering in his chest and body covered with sweat, filled with an inexplicable ache.

He really, really _hated_ Neil Josten.

(Maybe if he kept repeating it, it would become true.)

If Neil picked up on any tension between them that morning, he didn’t say anything, just toyed with the iron rings on his fingers and toed the bag at his feet again and again as if to assure himself it was there. As soon as they reached work, he went straight to his office as if eager to start the day.

That or the sooner something was done, the sooner he could move on past it.

Renee’s session with Adam was after lunch, so the three of them spent their break double-checking the room and clearing out as much stuff they could without making things too obvious as soon as Adam stepped inside. That left the table and chairs, the shelves and some stuffed animals, too much in Andrew’s opinion, but he was used to living in an imperfect world.

Neil seemed too nervous to eat and kept pacing the room as he muttered in French beneath his breath, his gaze darting about to where the wards had been painted the night before, while Renee took to meditating after she ate a sandwich. Andrew inwardly sneered at both of them before he read a couple of chapters of some fantasy novel Robin had recommended, and was almost grateful when Renee’s phone beeped to alert her to the approaching session.

“Five minutes,” she called out as she straightened out her legs then stood up. “All ready?”

Neil stopped pacing and gave a curt nod. “Got the salt mix on hand?” He flipped back the cover of his messenger bag so he could reach inside of it with ease, while Renee motioned to the deep front pockets of her pale blue cardigan.

“Try not to get that shit on me,” Andrew said as he went to stand to the left of the door, while Neil went over to the right. “Can’t imagine what it’ll do to the washing machine.”

“You’d just go use Nicky’s,” Renee mused as she sat down at the table, the picture of innocence with a slight smile on her face and her hands folded in front of her. Meanwhile, Neil rolled up the sleeves of his too-big, dark grey sweater as if to leave his own hands better exposed – the rings on them, to be more exact.

Andrew gave his ‘friend’ the finger then fell quiet as he waited for Adam and Zuul to appear, killing the time by tugging on the cuffs of his shirt as if he had his armbands on; Neil and Renee were annoying freaks who remained too still to be human.

He should have gone out for a cigarette, dammit.

_Finally_ , there were the sounds of voices and footsteps outside, of Wymack’s deep rumble and Adam’s higher pitched voice calling out something in a mocking tone. “-stupid old man,” the dumbass kid taunted as he stepped into the room. “You can’t prove anything,” he finished with a laugh.

“Be careful,” Wymack warned before he shut the door.

“Whatever.” Adam threw a rude gesture of his shoulder as he sauntered into the room, a cocky grin on his face; his jeans were loose and could use a belt, his flannel shirt unbuttoned over a plain black t-shirt and he appeared to be going for a mussed look with his hair but lacked the appropriate styling gel. “Yo, Renee! Still looking like my gram, you need to do something with the old lady clothes if you wanna get laid, you- what?”

It was clear that the asshole didn’t have Renee’s or Neil’s talent since he didn’t react to the wards at all, didn’t react until a stuffed animal flew across the room when Zuul _did_ notice them. By that point, Renee was on her feet while Andrew and Neil closed in.

“What’s going on?” Adam demanded to know as Renee circled around him. “What are you assholes doing here?”

“Just shut up and stay out of the way,” Andrew told him as he moved to keep the kid away from the freaks, who were a bit busy at the moment chanting and throwing shit at what he assumed was a pissed-off poltergeist. A _very_ pissed-off one.

Adam may be a bully and a sadist in the making, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. “Wait… they’re doing something to Rick, aren’t they?” Anger flushed his face as he attempted to rush at Andrew, thinking that the five extra inches or so he had in height gave him some sort of advantage.

As if Andrew wasn’t used to taking on bigger assholes by that point.

If anything, he had to hold back, to remind himself that he was dealing with a child, someone remanded into Palmetto Services’ care, so he spun about as he grabbed Adam’s left arm and wrapped the kid up in a restraining hold. As he did that, he heard a muffled yelp and looked up to see Neil half-bent over a chair, his left arm curled around his abdomen. Renee threw a handful of the anti-ghost mix while chanting ‘begone’, and barely avoided being bombarded by several stuffed animals and a piece of shelf that had somehow come loose.

Judging from the intense chill in the air, the burning sensation of the cross on Andrew’s chest, the chairs skittering around the room, an almost audible voice whispering things which Andrew was certain he didn’t want to hear and the way Adam was spitting out death threats, Zuul was more than pissed off at the moment.

Neil let out a pained wheeze and managed to shove Renee out of the way in time for both of them to avoid another chair flung at them, right before a look which some might call determined (Andrew noted it down as one of intense stupidity for the future) settled on his face as both hands reached into his bag. The air in front of him grew thick with salt and iron right before he thrust his hands out and screamed about casting some bastard away.

And just like last time he’d some something so monumentally _stupid_ , things stopped moving around as if frozen in time, the breath-stealing chill to the air gave way to warmth, the faint murmuring of almost words in Andrew’s head stopped – all right before Neil blinked his fake eyes a couple of times then fell down to the floor as if he’d taken a blow to the head. A very, _very_ empty head.

“Oh, I don’t think he should have done that,” Renee gasped in a faint voice as she lowered her own hands, the anti-ghost mix falling onto the floor grain by grain.

No shit.

“Motherfucker, what did you do? What did he do? Rick, _kill him_! Kill all of them!” Adam screamed, loud enough to make Andrew’s ears ache. For a moment, Andrew contemplated choking the bloodthirsty asshole, before he remembered why that was an (unfortunately) bad idea.

“Get Wymack to take this little shit away,” he gritted out instead as he continued to restrain the struggling teenager, and allowed himself to strike back (once) when Adam tried to kick him in the shins.

Renee nodded in a wobbly manner then was at the door in a couple of seconds, always quick on her feet even though she appeared worn out (guess playing with ghosts was harder than it looked). He suspected that things had been a bit louder than they’d intended since she’d barely opened the door before Wymack and Kevin barreled inside.

“What the hell was-“ Wymack came to a stop when he caught sight of Andrew restraining a raving Adam and Neil laid out on the floor. “Kevin, go get someone from Medical.”

“But-“

“Now,” Wymack ordered in that tone he only used when he expected to be obeyed without question, which worked on most of the Foxhole Court’s staff. It certain worked on Kevin, who nodded frantically as he hightailed it out of the room.

Meanwhile, Wymack approached Andrew and a still yelling Adam. “Kid, calm the hell down, okay?”

“I’m gonna sue your asses, sue you and kill you!” Adam shouted as he attempted to kick Wymack, spit flying from his mouth and expression deranged. Something akin to pain flashed across the old man’s face before he seemed to steel himself, then he nodded to Andrew as a signal that he’d take the kid.

Adam tried to pull free, but Wymack was a pro at handling unruly brats like him and strong as hell, and managed to keep him restrained as he was hauled out of the room. Andrew didn’t care if the kid ended up tranqued in the near future, not when it was clear he would have sicced his pet ghost on them without remorse, and was willing to bet that Adam’s time at Palmetto Services was coming to an end.

They couldn’t help those who weren’t willing to be helped.

Once Adam was gone, Andrew joined Renee in kneeling next to a certain idiot; Neil lay unconscious on the floor with his head tilted to the side and his arms spread out a little. Andrew remembered how Moreau had awakened Neil by touching him the last time, but wasn’t sure he was willing to go that far when Kevin and Katelyn rushed into the room, the latter bearing a medkit.

“How is he?” she called out as she glanced around, then stumbled over to join them. “What happened?”

“Ah, he over-exerted himself and fell down,” Renee explained, her voice drained with exhaustion. “Also, he was hit with a chair in the stomach, so you should check that out.” While she spoke, Andrew gave Kevin a cool look for bringing the young woman rather than Abby or Aaron.

“Abby came, too, but she went with Wymack when we ran into him and Adam,” Kevin murmured while Katelyn opened the kit so she could pull on a pair of rubber gloves then fetch a pen light, which she flashed in Neil’s eyes in turn after gently pulling back each eyelid.

“It doesn’t appear as if he has a concussion, which is good,” she said after checking his pupils and feeling his skull for bumps. “Let’s take a look at his abdomen and chest.” For some reason, Renee twitched upon hearing that but didn’t stop the intern.

Katelyn shifted Neil’s arms about and patted then down, and checked his legs, too; for some reason she paused at his right hip, but it might have been because he shifted slightly. Then she grabbed the hem of his sweater and began to lift it so she could check for internal bleeding.

Since he was crouched down by Neil’s left knee, Andrew saw it about the same time she did, saw the scars snaking across his slightly concave abdomen (did the idiot still not eat enough?). Saw the swath of road rash on one side of his chest, saw a history of violence carved ( _literally_ , those were knife wounds roughly stitched together) again and again with too much frequency.

The worst part? Most of those scars were old and faded, even more-so than the one on his face, implying that Neil had been much too young when they’d been inflicted.

Stuart had stated that Neil’s past was one of pain and fear, had lacked any good memories whatsoever. Neil had traded a couple of carefully hedged truths implying that he’d run from something awful. What Andrew saw in front of him proved that both men hadn’t lied at all – if anything, they’d understated things.

“What is it?” Kevin asked at Katelyn’s sudden indrawn breath, but Renee prevented him from glancing over to see; while she did that, Katelyn quickly finished the exam then tugged Neil’s sweater back in place.

“There doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding, either, just some bruising,” she said in a rush. “I don’t know why he’s unconscious.” She frowned as she looked at Renee. “How did he exert himself so much?”

“Concentrated a bit too much,” Renee said with that too-innocent smile of hers, which was sort of the truth.

Katelyn gawked at that, but what else could she do? “Uhm, I guess we can try to move him to the infirmary? If he doesn’t wake in an hour or two, we should-“

“He’ll wake up.” Dammit, it would draw too much attention if Neil went to the hospital, like Katelyn was about to suggest. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Katelyn appeared confused again before she held up her gloved hands in front of Andrew. “Ah… _he is_ … no, uhm, _he has knife_ ,” she said in badly accented German. “ _Pocket_.”

Oh, was someone learning the language from Aaron? How revolting. Still, that explained what had happened during the examination, though Andrew was a bit miffed that Neil was able to sneak the thing into work when _he_ couldn’t – he was going to invest in some spiffy iron rings himself, yes he was.

For the moment, Andrew shooed Katelyn and Kevin out of the way before he took a deep breath to clear his mind as much as possible (other than of the thought that Neil was a _huge_ idiot), then reached out to lightly cup his right hand on the side of Neil’s neck. The younger man’s skin was cold to the touch; Andrew counted seven heartbeats beneath his thumb before Neil drew in a ragged breath and his eyes fluttered open.

Andrew withdrew his hand as quickly as possible while Neil gazed back in a blank manner, clearly not all ‘there’ yet, then let out a low moan which – not thinking about that, Andrew told himself while he clenched his teeth. “ _You’re a fucking idiot_ ,” he ground out in German.

Neil lay still for a few seconds then moaned again. “Head hurts,” he managed to choke out as his arms more or less flopped over his face as if to block out the light, the skin of his hands reddened.

“Yes, I’m sure it does,” Renee was quick to soothe as she shuffled a little closer. “That was…,” she glanced at an attentive Kevin and Katelyn before she shook her head, “incredible, but it had to cost you a lot of energy. Do you want some help?”

“Home,” Neil more or less managed to get out. “Go home.”

“Okay, we’ll get you home,” she promised.

Great, Andrew knew who would do the chauffeuring, didn’t he? “Let Wymack know I’m dealing with this idiot and probably won’t be back for the rest of today,” he told Kevin as he carefully slid his left arm beneath a rather floppy Neil’s back to lift the fool martyr off the floor; he might as well get some sort of bonus for putting up with this ridiculous shit.

“’mm notta ‘diot,” Neil slurred as he lurched onto his feet.

Why did Fate insist on proving just how much it hated Andrew to him all the time?

Renee ran off (more like lurched quickly) to get his things while he, with Kevin’s help, half-carried Neil out to his car. He’d just managed to get Neil in the passenger seat with the belt on when she caught up to them, out of breath.

“Here.” She handed over Andrew’s coat and bag, then motioned for him to step away from the car. “He really is going to need someone to watch over him,” she said in a low-pitched voice. “What he did… I still can’t believe he did that, and it had to take a _lot_ of energy.”

“So? I put him to bed and he gets some rest.” Andrew sighed when she gave him a disappointed look for that statement. “You freaks are nothing but a pain in the ass,” he gritted out.

She smiled, the expression exhausted but heartfelt, and risked a quick squeeze to his upper right arm. “Yet you tolerate us. I’ll have Allison stop by Neil’s apartment with something that’ll help him recover faster.”

He almost told her to make sure her lousy girlfriend also brought along a bottle of whiskey, but merely clicked his tongue before he went to the driver’s side of the car. As he settled in the seat, he noticed that Neil was already asleep.

At least it was a quiet drive to the idiot’s apartment.

Andrew noticed that Neil made an abortive motion toward his right pocket upon being woken up once they reached the place, so draped Neil’s right arm over his shoulders as he once more half-carried the fool (after he retrieved a bag from the trunk of his car) up to the thirteenth floor. Neil let out a faint grunt when he was dropped onto his bed and appeared ready to fall right back asleep, which made Andrew sigh before he removed the young man’s shoes and pulled the grey quilt folded at the bottom over Neil’s supine form.

The main problem dealt with for the time being, he left the small bedroom, the door closed behind him, and checked the kitchen for something to eat; of course there wasn’t any alcohol in the place, there never was, but at least he could make a sandwich and have a cup of tea.

Neil didn’t have a television and his laptop was locked, but Andrew had his phone (and charger) and his tablet in his work bag which Renee had been ‘kind’ enough to fetch. He also had a change of clothes in the bag he kept stashed in the trunk of his car for those times he went straight to the gym after work, just sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, but they were more comfortable than his work clothes.

Prepared for a quiet if boring evening ahead, he settled in ‘his’ chair with the tablet while the phone charged, and ate the sandwich while he played a game with stupid cats that Robin had gotten him addicted to, damn her. A new one had just appeared when there was a knock on the front door.

It had to be Reynolds, since Neil never had a guest show up in all the times that Andrew had been over; huffing at being interrupted, Andrew got up to see what the pest wanted and wasn’t surprised when Reynolds all but barreled into the apartment.

“I’ve some stuff that Renee – what the hell?” A cloth bag held in each hand, Reynolds glared as if the sight of Neil’s living room offended her, which it probably did. “Seriously? He lives like this?”

Andrew shrugged in response, and wasn’t surprised again when she stalked off into the kitchen. “What. The. _Hell_? I know Wymack pays him enough to live someplace better than this!”

“Says it’s close to work.” Andrew went to check out the bags and was pleased to note that one of them contained takeout from his favorite Chinese restaurant, along with a couple of bottles of the sugary coffee drinks he liked (which he put in the fridge).

“That’s no excuse,” Reynolds scoffed as she emptied the other bag of what appeared to be several boxes of tea. “Renee said to make him a pot of the blue blend when he first wakes up.” She held up the blue box in her hand before she gathered the rest together and carried them over to the counter near the stove. “It’s supposed to help with his energy levels or something,” she explained as she started to search through the cabinets. “I’m writing up the little shit a diet plan,” she stated to no one after a minute, accompanied by a door being slammed shut. “No wonder he’s so skinny.”

Right, good luck with that; Andrew had spent how many shopping trips with the idiot and still couldn’t get him to buy much more than fruit, chicken and cheap ramen noodles.

There were some cans of soup in the bags and candy bars as well, and a couple of paperbacks; it was clear that Renee intended for Andrew to stay a while so after Reynolds muttered some more over the dire state of Neil’s pantry/apartment, he kicked the woman out so he could eat his dinner and read in peace.

Nicky and Aaron texted him during the evening to ask what had happened to Neil, which he ignored (let Renee figure out an explanation) in favor of reading one of the murder mysteries which Renee had lent him (not bad); he did send a message to Wymack, though, to let the man know he wasn’t going into work the next day. When he felt tired, he used his coat as a makeshift blanket and made himself comfortable in the chair, and managed to get a few hours of sleep.

It wasn’t the worst place he’d crashed for the night, wasn’t the worst circumstances of him sleeping ‘rough’.  The chair was mostly comfortable, his belly was full, the front door was locked, and while there was someone else in the place with him, Neil seemed dead to the world and Andrew had one of the kitchen knives tucked between the chair’s cushion and frame.

He wasn’t surprised to make it undisturbed through the night (save for a vague dream or two which left him feeling… unclean). After using the half-bathroom, he made himself a couple of egg sandwiches and had another of the coffee drinks Reynolds had brought, then spent some time messing around on his tablet.

Just when he was debating heading to his apartment for a shower and possibly bringing back Aaron to check that Neil wasn’t in a coma or something, there were faint sounds of life from the bedroom. A minute or so after the toilet flushed, the door opened to reveal one rather rumpled Neil, still dressed in the clothes from the day before, hair more of a tousled mess than usual, rubbing at his eyes as he slumped toward the wall for support.

It seemed to take him a few seconds to realize that Andrew was standing in the living room.

“Wha- you’re here?” Neil fumbled for his pocket (probably the knife), his blue eyes wide. His _pale blue_ eyes, the liar.

“Calm down,” Andrew ordered as something inside of him twisted at the sight; he told himself it was that he’d been proven right, that he’d known all along that the ugly brown was fake and hiding something striking and-

_Focus_.

“Pull that knife on me and I’ll stab you with it,” he said as he folded his arms over his chest. “That’s if you don’t fall down first.”

As if to prove him right, Neil started to slide down the wall a little and had to brace his hands against it to keep mostly upright. “But… but why are you here?” He sounded so confused right then that Andrew almost felt sorry for him. _Almost_.

“Someone had to be an idiot martyr and take on a poltergeist by themselves, _again_. Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?” He asked as he slowly approached a barely standing Neil. “Are you going to fall down?”

“No?” Neil appeared so washed out right then, the color bled from his face save for the dark circles beneath his eyes, that Andrew expected him to pass out at any moment.

“Come on, you idiot, get back to bed.” Andrew held out his arm in a clear invitation for Neil to take it, which he did after a few seconds.

He wasn’t a big fan of bodily contact with other people (unless it was on his own terms, to placate certain urges), but Neil was mindful of boundaries and obviously not a big fan of it himself. Once close enough to the bed, the other man tumbled onto it with a groan of relief.

Andrew went over to the dresser and, after a quick search, pulled free a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt with minimal touching, which he threw at the bed before leaving the room as he said he’d be back with some food. Then he went to the kitchen to make another egg sandwich, grab an orange since Neil seemed to like them so much, and brew a pot of Renee’s ‘blue’ tea.

Neil was still awake when he returned with everything on a tray, changed into the clean clothes and droopy-eyed. “Uhm… why are you here?” he asked again as he sat huddled against the headboard of his pathetic twin bed, long legs drawn up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. Andrew recognized that posture, had been the one who’d tried to make himself as small as possible (ha) before as if it would keep him safe.

(It never did.)

For a moment he wanted to throw the tray aside at the thought that Neil perceived him as a threat, as someone who would harm him… but really, what did he expect? Despite the weeks of him coming almost every day to place himself between Neil and the world, he was still the person who’d helped to ‘kill’ Neil’s mother.

With that in mind, he forced down the anger and sat toward the end of the bed as he placed the tray closer to Neil. “Renee said the tea would help. Drink it and eat.”

Neil was still for a moment before he slowly unfurled; the sleeve of the grey t-shirt was loose enough to fall back from his wrist and reveal a bit of scar tissue, which Andrew now knew wasn’t limited to his forearm. “Thank you.” His hand hovered near the cup of tea before he seemed to decide to let it cool for a while longer and he picked up the orange instead. “You… you can leave now.” His voice was quiet, was hoarse with exhaustion.

“Tell me this, and don’t give me that ‘you’re on credit’ bullshit.” Andrew glared at Neil, whose gaze was skittish – probably because of the missing contacts. “You able to feed yourself any time soon?”

“I… I’ll get better in a day or two,” Neil admitted as he stared down at the orange in his hands.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” Andrew watched Neil fumble with the orange before he clicked his tongue then slowly, with deliberate intent, took it away without their skin coming in contact so he could peel it for the idiot. “I need to run to my apartment for a couple of things, but I’ll be back.”

“You don’t-“

“I’m not going to have your uncle show up to shoot me because you were a moron and knocked out what little brains you have trying to get to the kitchen to make a pot of tea,” Andrew declared as he made short work of the orange’s rind. It was quiet until he placed the peeled orange back in Neil’s limp hands.

“Not a moron,” Neil mumbled as he glanced at Andrew through the tangled strands of his dark bangs.

“How many times is it going to take you to realize that you don’t touch poltergeists, hmm? _Moron_.” Andrew grabbed a napkin from the tray to wipe his hands clean.

“It’s just….” Neil sighed before he pried a piece of fruit clean and popped it in his mouth, then licked his thumb free of juice, which prompted more of that damn clenching feeling in Andrew’s chest. “It could have hurt all of us.” He frowned for a moment as he peeled another piece free. “My mum wasn’t there to block it, so I did what I thought best.”

Andrew bit back on the comment of ‘what thinking’ because dammit, Neil was right about the ghost possibly hurting someone with the way it had been throwing things around – it had managed to hit Neil after all, and almost had Renee. Next time, Andrew would have to do a better job of watching out for them.

He didn’t want to think about what it meant for his life, that he honestly believed there would be a ‘next time’.

“Shut up and eat,” he ordered.

That earned him a stony look for a few seconds (much more potent with those icy blue eyes), before Neil resumed his meal. “You don’t-“

“I’m staying,” Andrew repeated yet again as Neil reached for the mug of tea. “And you’re getting a tv because I foresee you being a slow learner.”

It was quiet while Neil sipped the hot beverage, his expression a mix of contemplation and annoyance. “You honestly think I can’t shoot you myself?” he finally asked after a few swallows of Renee’s special blend.

“Then you’ll be stuck with Renee and your uncle,” Andrew reminded the fool.

Neil grimaced before he had more tea. “I’m not paying for cable,” he argued.

“Fine.” The man obviously had internet, so Andrew would just log into his Netflix account while stuck babysitting.

He was stared at for a few more seconds as if Neil expected him to put up more of a fight, before he slumped back against the pillows with the mug held in both hands as if he could barely support its weight; that might be the case, considering the air of exhaustion which radiated from the young man with such palpable waves that even Andrew felt weary.

Aware that he should go back to his apartment for a shower and a change of clothes (at least), Andrew waited until Neil set the empty mug back on the tray then refilled it. “Does exorcising ghosts drain you freaks or something?” he asked, reminded of how tired Renee had been after taking out Casper and then Zuul.

“Is this some sort of fever dream?” Neil murmured as he rubbed his face, then sighed before he picked up half of the egg sandwich. “It takes energy,” he explained between small bites that were barely more than nibbles, as if he was forcing himself to eat. “Even without… uhm.” He waggled the fingers of his left hand, which were bare of the iron rings and somewhat red, as if they’d been exposed to hot water or sunlight… or extreme cold.

Andrew was picking up the television after stopping by his apartment, and contemplated getting a more comfortable chair since he definitely foresaw more extended stays in his future.

“What about you? Is Wymack mad about you missing work?”

Andrew plucked at the soft fabric of his sweatpants while he shrugged. “Said he’s fine not seeing my ugly face today.” Somehow, he suspected that the old man had finally figured out what was going on – either Adam had ranted a little too much, Renee had confessed… or, well, Wymack wasn’t a fool despite his huge bleeding heart.

“Hmm.” Neil closed his eyes as he rested his head back against the wall and finished the last bite of the half sandwich; things were quiet between them for a couple of minutes, but for once it wasn’t strained.

“Finish your food,” Andrew chided. “I worked hard on it.”

The left corner of Neil’s mouth quirked upward the tiniest amount. “For what, five minutes?” He opened his eyes when Andrew clicked his tongue and let out a faint groan as he reached for the mug. “I’m full.”

Oh, Reynolds was going to have a field day with the idiot; something of that thought must have shown on Andrew’s face because Neil gave a slight shake of his head. “I… I can’t eat much right now.” At least he steadily drank the tea after he rested against the pillows once more.

Since it was just going to go to waste, Andrew picked up the remaining half of the sandwich and ate it himself, which earned him an eyeroll from Neil. When it was gone, he mentioned his plans to run a couple of errands, and noticed the slight tension in Neil’s shoulders vanish when he brought up returning with a new television.

He might not be fully trusted, but it was clear that Neil preferred him there than no one at all when he was weakened to the point that he could barely stand.

It wasn’t until Neil was asleep (more like passed out) again that Andrew left, oddly reluctant to even if it was just for an hour or two. He must have inhaled some of the damn anti-ghost powder and it had scrambled his brains, he concluded as he triple-checked that the door was locked before he forced himself down the hallway.

 

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Hmm, not to be too repetitive with the poltergeist thing, but plot! We're getting somewhere, honest. Just like we are with Andrew and Neil! Still a lot of snark, but we are!
> 
> Oh Andrew, you and your 'hate'.....
> 
> Ah... was that it?
> 
> As always, much thanks for the comments and kudos!  
> *******


	8. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... sorry? Very sorry for the delay on this - RL is being very stressful lately, which means that writing is done in spurts. Unfortunately I don't see it changing anytime soon, but I've got a few chapters built up and I'm just going to have to deal with things being this way for the foreseeable future and try to get back to some sort of regular posting schedule (hopefully).
> 
> That said, new chapter! What I consider some plot progress, with a certain someone appearing in this one (helping with that progress), and some real twists in the next couple (I'm currently writing ch11).
> 
> Ah... okay, trigger warnings? There's discussion on consent in one scene, and references to Andrew's past and what happened to Mary that's been brought up in past chapters (and what Mary did to Neil in relation to it). Nothing non-consensual happens in this chapter, though. Just a misunderstanding and of course characters dealing with their awful pasts. You can always reach out to me (@nekojitachan on tumblr) if you have questions/concerns).
> 
> Thanks to @fall-for-the-game for the beta!  
> ********

******

Neil tucked the quilt tighter around himself while Andrew paid the delivery guy for their dinner (Chinese), his attention mostly on the screen of the new television installed on the opposite wall in his living room. Andrew had gone ahead and bought the damn thing (at least it wasn’t huge) then mounted it on the wall since there wasn’t anywhere else to put it, and now Neil was being subjected to some ridiculous show about people ‘surviving’ in a world populated with the undead.

It was enough to make him wish he could drink, to long for the eventual oblivion that followed overloaded psychic senses and awful nausea and everything else.

It would be worth it.

“Why are these people so stupid?” he asked as Andrew placed the bag down on the coffee table. “Don’t trust anyone, just kill them, take their resources and move on.” That’s what his mother had taught him, after all, was the lesson these people should have learned after the first betrayal.

Andrew gave him a bland look for a moment before he sorted through the bag and set Neil’s spicy Szechuan chicken noodles on the end table, near his mug of tea. “Try telling that to Renee.”

What did Walker have to do with anything? Neil frowned as he motioned for a pair of chopsticks as well, then reached for the carton so he could eat; he was feeling better after a couple days of rest and Walker’s weird tea, and would be able to go back to work the next day.

“These people take too many chances and are too trusting.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a show if they acted smart and dealt with any plotlines in a realistic way,” Andrew argued after a few bites of his sweet and sour chicken. “That and Renee claims they’re ‘showing the need for people to hold on to their humanity in even the darkest of times’.”

Neil’s frown deepened as he shoved aside a snow pea. “What humanity? No one’s going to care about such a thing when the world’s so fucked up. Barely anyone cares about it now.”

“Ah, a realist, how precious and rare,” Andrew drawled.

Yeah, well, hard not to see humans for what they were when one could (sort of) read their thoughts. Neil gave a bland look of his own in return while he nibbled on a carrot slice, and they both ate in silence after that.

Andrew was supposed to leave after dinner, and Neil found himself in no hurry for the meal to end for some reason, to wish the stupid episode of some stupid series to be over. As much as Andrew could frustrate him, as much as he didn’t understand the other man (how could he hate Mary so much to exorcise her yet help Neil like this?)… there’d been a sense of comfort in having someone around the last couple of days, to know that he hadn’t been alone when he’d been so weak and unable to defend himself properly.

He missed his mother so much.

Yet Mary was gone, and while Neil believed he’d come to terms with that fact… he was still grateful for Andrew’s presence (despite what the man had done) when he wasn’t sure if someone suspected him of being able to see ghosts or not, when he was torn between the impulse to run until he couldn’t move any farther and the need to not react impetuously (to not give up the home he’d made for himself without a fight). There was something oddly grounding to Andrew.

Even if he was still annoying as hell at times. Even when he’d cost Neil Mary.

(Though Neil could admit that Mary had played her own part in that, and him as well.)

The bastard had found the sweets that Neil’s family had sent him from the UK, all the Cadbury and Kinder bars, the Terry’s Chocolate Oranges (which Ally thought he’d like because of the ‘orange’ part) and so forth. For some reason, they kept believing he’d developed a liking for chocolate when he never had over the years, so he just stuck the stuff in a cabinet and ignored it.

At least, he _had_ , until a sugar fiend invaded his flat and found it, then steadily ate through the stash over a long weekend.

Andrew particularly enjoyed the Flake bars; he’d placed what had to be one of the remaining few next to a bottle of soda and reached for it once the take-away was finished. He must have noticed Neil’s disbelieving gaze because he made a show of unwrapping the chocolate. “I’ve let Stuart know that you’re running low on candy. A package should be arriving soon.”

Andrew was a _truly_ annoying bastard. “Seriously?” Neil gritted out as he shoved the quilt away then himself out of the chair so he could go make more tea. “I’m sure you could find the stuff online somewhere, why drag me into your impending diabetic coma?”

“Too much effort and it makes the asshole happy, sending you stuff. Oh, half the beans will be mine.”

Yes, the bastard had taken a liking to them, too; for a moment Neil had the impulse to throw the tea kettle at Andrew’s head, but with his luck the concussion would be fatal and he’d be left with a body to clean up and a ghost to exorcise. “ _You were born through the ass_ ,” Neil informed him in Russian as he filled the kettle with water instead.

“Someone seems to be feeling better.” Andrew threw out the empty take-away containers then leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. “You still going to be here when I come back tomorrow?”

Other than to run out the one morning for the television and some change of clothes from his own flat, Andrew had stayed at Neil’s the entire time, using the half-bath to wash up as best he could. Part of it had been to watch over Neil and to help him out… and part of it had been to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t run away, after all.

“We talked about this already, it’ll draw too much attention if I do.” His brows drew together as he fussed with the box of tea leaves which Renee had given him, some sort of herbal blend that tasted like an odd mix of licorice and mint – not his favorite flavor, but he was used to ingesting things more for their benefit than their taste. “I’m not happy about it, but nothing’s changed since then.”

Andrew regarded him with that flat manner of his which reminded Neil of some of his father’s men, it was so dispassionate; one couldn’t tell if they were seconds from violence or walking away in boredom.

(Too often they chose the ‘violence’ option when it came to Neil ( _Nathaniel_ ) and his mother.)

“Keep reminding yourself of that,” Andrew said before he went to the one cabinet to grab half of the remaining cans of beans. “See you tomorrow.”

“I hope you die in your sleep.” That time, Neil stuck with English.

Andrew held up his left middle finger as he walked away.

Neil was halfway through the pot of tea when a call came through his phone – Stuart’s new number. At first he reached to end the call before he hesitated and then decided to deal with his uncle and accepted it instead.

“Uhm, hello? Abram?” Stuart sounded surprised.

“Hi,” Neil answered, slipping into his British accent for the first time in days.

“Hi,” Stuart echoed before he cleared his throat. “Sorry, just… well, you answered.”

Why had the man called if he hadn’t thought that Neil would? Stubborn Hatford genes, he supposed. “Yeah.” Just because he had, didn’t mean that Neil would make it easy on the man.

Stuart was quiet for a couple of heartbeats as if gathering his thoughts. “Okay, so, ah, the runt said that you weren’t feeling so good. Take it things are better now?”

Neil almost left it at that and went along with whatever story Andrew had spun for his uncle (at least he knew the other man kept his word about _that_ ), but if he was going to stay in Columbia…. “I used up too much energy fighting a poltergeist,” he explained. “And before you say anything, I asked Andrew not to tell you.”

“What?” Stuart pulled away from the phone while he muttered something and lit a cigarette, then let out a harsh breath. “ _Another_ one? What the fuck’s going on there?”

“I don’t know.” That was the problem.

“Ram, this doesn’t-“

“I know it doesn’t look good,” Neil argued as he sunk further in the chair with the mug of tea held cradled against his chest. “Maybe Walker drew too much attention to herself, maybe it’s just a run of bad luck.”

“Tell me you believe that last part.” When Neil was quiet for several seconds, Stuart huffed. “I’m not going to demand you come home, but there’s other places you can go, you know.”

“It would still be me running away and drawing attention to _me_ ,” Neil pointed out, annoyed to be using Andrew’s argument like that. “It’s best I stay here, at least for now.”

“Hmph.” Stuart blew out more smoke and seemed to consider things. “What does the runt – what does Minyard think?”

“The same, it’s why he stayed here all weekend, to watch over me.”

“Glad to hear he’s taking his job seriously,” Stuart muttered. “If you’re going to stay there a while longer, you need someone watching over you.”

“I can watch over myself just fine,” Neil all but spat out. “Besides, I _had_ someone doing it and you exorcised her.”

“Ram… do you think it was easy?” Stuart asked, his voice raw with emotion. “Do you think I wanted to do it?”

“Yet you did,” Neil accused, all of the hurt and anger he felt at his uncle rushing to the fore. “She was your _sister_.” She was Neil’s mother, his protector and teacher and shield and… and his _everything_.

“No, she wasn’t, not anymore. _Listen_ to me,” Stuart pleaded when Neil went to hang up. “I’ve dealt with spirits a hell of a lot longer than you, kiddo, so I know. I _know_. Most of Mary was there at the start, it’s why she came back, after all. She cared about you so much that she couldn’t let go. But her death was too long ago and she wasn’t a stable person when she was alive. Ghosts that use people as their focus get eaten up by strong emotion slowly but surely, get destroyed by obsession until it overtakes them and whatever bit of humanity they had. _That’s_ why I exorcised her. That and to protect you.”

“It felt like her.” Neil closed his eyes as he remembered his mother’s emotions and memories washing into him time and time again.

“It was a flawed copy. She should have rested in peace when we killed the prick and you were safe with us – when we suspected she was still around, we kept waiting for her to pass on, kept thinking it would just take you finding your feet with a good job or someplace to live. Except it never happened.”

No, because that wasn’t what Mary was after; she wanted Neil to keep running, to never stop because nowhere was safe in her mind. Nowhere had been safe when she’d been alive, so why would it change after her death?

“I miss her so much,” Neil admitted as he longed for the feel of her fingers through his hair, for the chill of her presence pressed against him, the murmur of her voice in his head.

“I do, too.” Stuart’s voice was raw with grief.

It was quiet for about a minute before Stuart cleared his throat again. “Minyard is looking out for you, yeah? I find out he’s charging a bunch of shit for nothing, I’m flying over to personally unload a clip in his runt head.”

Despite their previous conversation, Neil found himself smiling while he opened his eyes. “Yeah, he’s helping with stuff.” He was tempted to tell Stuart not to send the sweets, but figured it wasn’t worth dealing with a sulking Andrew.

“Good. So, uhm, I’ll have someone check into what’s going on there, all right? Make sure Walker didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Thanks.” Neil hoped that the person wouldn’t be too intrusive, and that ‘checking’ was all they did.

“Sure.” There was another awkward pause while Stuart took a long drag on the cigarette. “Okay, you sound tired so I’ll let you get some rest. Be sure to reach out if you need anything, all right?”

“Okay.”

They wished each other a good night (especially in Stuart’s case) then hung up, which allowed Neil to finish his cooled-off tea. Everything wasn’t all smoothed over with him and the family right then, but he supposed it was a step toward the way it had been while Mary was still around. It was clear that the Hatfords were determined to be a presence in his life, to watch over him somehow, so better to interact with them and have an idea of what they were up to than keep on ignoring them.

Andrew returned freshly shaved and dressed in something other than sweats for the first time since Thursday, and huffed upon seeing Neil as if surprised despite himself to find him still in the flat. They didn’t say much to each other on the ride to Palmetto Services, which was fine with Neil (especially considering the way Andrew drove, as if laws were an optional thing).

He found an anxious Jean waiting for him in the break room, which made him smile; he’d managed to answer a couple of texts from his friend, to assure him that he was fine (more or less). “See? Still alive.”

Jean gave a derisive snort at that statement. “Barely, you look as if you should be buried in the ground, not walking above it.”

“Thanks.” Neil frowned at the insult but couldn’t deny it, not when he still had some dark circles beneath his eyes despite all the sleep over the past few days – eyes which ached since he’d put the contacts back in that morning. There’d been little point hiding his natural eye color when Andrew had already seen it, that and he’d been sleeping so much, so he’d left them out until he had to return to work.

“You’re welcome.” Jean’s gaze flickered at Andrew, who was busy raiding the boxes of donuts someone had brought in. “ _You **are** all right, aren’t you? Renee said he’d take care of you, but_ ….”

“ _I’m fine_.” Neil gave a slight shrug as he went to put his lunch away. “ _He kept me fed and mostly left me alone_.”

“Hmph.” Jean didn’t seem as if he believed that, but some of the tension in his broad shoulders drained away. “ _They took Adam away on Friday_.”

“Really?” Neil paused for a moment to see if he was guilty or upset at the news, but the only thing he felt over that fact was relief. “ _Why_?”

“ _Because he was making threats against the staff.”_ Jean gave Andrew a narrow look for emptying out most of a box of donuts while he poured himself a cup of coffee. “ _Considered too violent to remain here_. Those aren’t meant just for you,” he told Andrew. “Try to have some manners for once.”

“Says the man speaking in a foreign language,” Andrew shot back before shoving half a chocolate donut in his mouth.

“As if you don’t grunt in German all the time,” Jean sneered. “At least we’re speaking a civilized tongue.”

Andrew gave him the finger while he walked away.

“ _How you and Renee can stomach the pig, I don’t understand_ ,” Jean muttered.

Neil was saved from having to answer that by Jeremy’s arrival, which sufficiently distracted his friend; he put up with a couple of questions about his health and weekend, then fled as soon as Jeremy turned his attention onto Jean.

Matt and Dan stopped by before his first case and checked up on him as well, and he had an uncomfortable conversation with Wymack in the hallway after he left the session with Andrew and Peter. The man stared at him as if searching for something before making a comment that he was glad Neil was back.

It made Neil feel distinctly uneasy.

As did the way Allison regarded him while he translated for Camila (who was also picking up English rather well, to the point that he didn’t think he’d need to sit in on her sessions much longer), enough to unnerve him and almost distract him from what the girl said. As soon as the session was over, he fumbled to his feet and made an excuse about meeting Jean for lunch before he fled the room.

Except when he opened the fridge in the break room, he didn’t find the brown paper bag holding his sandwich and orange, but some bright blue plastic container in its place. “Don’t bother, I gave your lunch away to one of the kids as a snack.”

Neil spun around to face Allison, who stood a few feet away with a smug expression on her face. “Why?” he demanded to know as he struggled to not lose his temper.

“Because you need to eat something more than that cheap crap.” She stepped forward, the smug expression slipping when he edged out of her way. “Until you learn better, I’ll be bringing in your lunches.”

“But that… that’s crazy,” he insisted. “And too much for you to do.”

“Not at all.” Allison picked up the blue container and a plaid bag, then motioned for Neil to join Jean at their usual table. “I often make lunches for Renee and myself, so it’s just a little extra effort to cook a bit more.”

Jean must have caught the last part of that because he nodded in approval. “Finally, I won’t have to watch him eat peanut butter and jelly several times a week.”

“That’s not all I eat,” Neil tried to argue, only to glance aside when his so-called friend gave him a withering look.

“I saw your kitchen, you didn’t have much more than that in it.” When Neil glared at Allison for intruding on his privacy, she had the gall to shrug in a nonchalant manner as she set the blue container in front of him then reached into the bag for a bottle of unsweetened tea. “I was there to drop off the tea for Renee.”

“That doesn’t mean you can go through my cabinets,” Neil muttered as he braced himself to touch the food container; he was surprised to sense concern, determination, affection and some annoyance from Allison.

That… that surprised him – not the annoyance, but the other emotions. He gave her a confused glance before he removed the lid and looked inside to find some sort of sliced marinated chicken breast on top of an herbed grain mix, and a large side of fruit salad in another compartment.

“You don’t seem to like vegetables so that part’s a little tricky, but at least you like fruit,” Allison explained as she pulled out a similar container from the bag. “And those carbs are a lot better for you than some over-processed bread.”

“Oh.” Neil tried a bite of the grain mix, which was a little pungent and reminded him of something he had in Salzburg years ago. “Uhm… thank you?” He didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

Still, Allison seemed to understand since she smiled. “You’re welcome, ragamuffin. We’ll fatten you up a little so you’ll look that much better in the new clothes I get you.”

“But… no,” Neil argued as he paused in eating. “I don’t need any of that.” Why did she insist on doing all these things?

“But yes,” Allison said with what could only be described as a predatory smile. “Now eat up while Jean tells us about his date with Jeremy this weekend. How giddy was the poor boy, hmm? Did you let him hold your hand? Throw him a bone yet and kiss him? Details, Moreau, _details_.”

“ _I told you she always wins_ ,” Jean muttered as he glared at Allison. “ _She leads some sort of charmed life_.”

“ _There’s wards for that_ ,” Neil murmured, though he was certain that Renee would object.

“Less being catty about me and more eating,” Allison ordered in an imperious manner while she waved her fork in Neil’s direction. “And I’m not hearing any juicy details yet.”

“ _Cast them quickly_ ,” Jean pleaded before he went on to describe how Jeremy had tried to make him a three-course meal on Saturday ( _try_ being the optimal word) and yes, there had been kissing (nothing more than that, from what Jean had told Neil), not that it was any of her business.

Neil felt stuffed after eating everything, but it had been an oddly pleasant lunch, all in all. The food had been good and filling, had been more than just something he ate to fuel himself, while it had been amusing, listening to Jean and Allison bicker back and forth. He might be uncertain about Allison’s promise to feed him moving forward… but somehow, it didn’t seem so terrible if lunches were similar to how they’d been that day.

It was still to be determined if someone knew about his talents and if he was in danger, if he was a threat to Palmetto Services, but he found himself wanting to stay more and more.

*******

Andrew fought the urge to sleep while Wymack prattled on about some possible certification classes, only because the old bastard would dock his pay each time he was caught with his eyes closed during the monthly staff meeting. Robin and Bee, who sat on opposite sides of him, would ‘help’ out when they noticed his attention drift off (Bee by nudging his foot, Robin by knocking her chair into his), but the meetings were always too long and boring as hell.

It didn’t help that Neil sat across from him, dressed in one of the sweaters which Reynolds had bought for him; the soft material of the pale grey top clung a bit more to his upper body than his usual outfits, highlighting the fact that he’d put on a few necessary pounds in the last several weeks with an improved diet. The idiot’s hair was still an overgrown, tousled mess since Reynolds hadn’t worn him down enough to get it properly styled (yet), but Andrew could easily imagine it combed into some semblance of order. Could imagine pale blue eyes peering at him through the thick strands rather than the fake dark brown, framed by lush lashes and-

He jolted when Bee did more than ‘nudge’ his foot that time and gave his adopted mother a narrow look while she smiled on in false innocence before motioning toward the front of the conference room, where Wymack was waving at some new slide.

“-heard back from the contractors on their estimates for the new electrical and remodeling we need.” Wymack didn’t look happy, which made sense when Andrew noticed the figures being displayed. “We can do it in phases, but it’s best to get it done sooner rather than later before we get hit with a code violation. The problem is, it’s worse than we thought so that’s gonna cost more than we’ve put aside for such situations. Which brings us to our next topic – any idea for fundraisers to meet the budget shortfall?”

The various expressions of surprise, pained grimaces and sympathy changed to contemplation while a grinning Seth raised his left hand into the air. “Yeah, how about a bikini car wash!”

“Wonderful, I’m sure you and rest of the guys will look so cute in them,” Dan drawled as she glared at the moron. “Be sure to wear lots of sunscreen.”

“Aw, I think I can rock a tankini,” Matt joked while Seth glowered back at his girlfriend. “Jeremy, you in?”

“Uhm, sure.” Knox blinked at first then grinned as well. “Maybe not a tankini but some really small boy-shorts? How about a candy bikini top?” He gestured to his chest while he glanced at Moreau, who covered his face with his hands as he muttered something that sounded to be a prayer in French; Andrew noticed that Neil had taken to sliding down in his chair as if to make himself unnoticeable, his expression a little too blank.

Of course someone covered with scars and possessed with the ability to read people’s thoughts and memories at a mere touch wouldn’t want to wear a swimsuit.

When Kevin started to go on about matching outfits and who could earn the most money (someone’s competitive streak had come out), Wymack banged his right fist into the wall to get the room’s attention. “Great, so glad to see everyone all on board, but _no_.” He glared at Seth as well before he shook his head. “Not quite the image we want to go with, considering what we do. How about some other _child-friendly_ ideas, you brain-dead maggots.”

Oh yes, child-friendly indeed, their fearless leader.

“I suppose… I suppose a bake sale is out?” Robin offered in a quiet voice. “It’s so much money.”

Katelyn gave her a friendly smile while she shook her head. “Even with Renee, Nicky and Erik baking up a storm,” Renee smiled and Nicky preened at the compliment, “we’d have to hold a lot of them to make that much.”

“That or sell a bunch of ‘medicinal brownies’,” Aaron muttered as he glowered at the projected numbers.

“I’d rather not have anyone end up in jail,” Abby argued, as ever a buzzkill. “Any legal suggestions?”

“Well….” Renee gave Reynolds a considering look. “How about an auction? Allison raised a lot of money for the local woman’s shelter by hosting one.”

“Auctioning off what? A bunch of stuffed animals?” Aaron scoffed, only to duck his head when Katelyn frowned at him.

Reynolds tapped her nails against the table’s top as she considered Renee’s suggestion. “No, you – or more like, Wymack and I – hit up a bunch of corporations and people with more shit than they need for donations, the whole ‘good cause, tax write-off, do it for the children, blah, blah, blah’ spiel.” She waved her right hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “You’ll be surprised what people will hand over for tax deduction-slash-bragging rights, and then we turn around and let other people bid on the stuff. It gets us the necessary money and a bit of publicity for the donors, win/win all around.”

Wymack glanced at Abby and Bee, both who smiled and nodded in approval, before he gazed at Reynolds while he rubbed along his jaw. “It’ll work?”

“Oh yeah.” Reynolds sounded confident; Andrew was sure she could pull it off, since she wouldn’t lie to Wymack about something so important. “We raised a lot of money for the shelter doing this, though it does involve some work.”

“I don’t think anyone here minds putting in some extra effort for a good cause,” Wymack said, and smiled with disgusting pride when everyone around the room nodded, even Andrew (albeit only slightly). “Great. We’ll meet up later to start working on this.”

Reynolds glanced at Renee, who smiled as well and nodded before leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Meanwhile, Matt took to pouting. “But I wanted to wear the tankini.”

“Oh honey, you can wear it whenever you want for me,” Dan told him, which made him laugh – at least until Wymack threw a dry eraser at his head and yelled for everyone to pay attention for the rest of the meeting.

Andrew seriously considered a case of food poisoning the day of the next meeting.

At least Wymack had scheduled the current one on a Friday that time, which meant that once Andrew had suffered enough (too much, really), he left the conference room with unexpected vigor (enough for Kevin to give him a startled look) so he could return to his office and prepare for his last session of the day (Celia, who’d been abandoned by her parents, along with her little sister Cory – Robin was dealing with her).

Once finished for the day, Andrew met Neil out in the parking lot; the freak was talking to Moreau, which wasn’t a big surprise, while Knox stood nearby with a stupidly fond expression on his face.

Andrew lit a cigarette while he waited for the babbling in French to finish a minute or so later, and ignored Knox’s friendly wave goodbye (as well as Moreau’s sour look). “Crazy plans for the weekend?”

Neil waited until they were in the GS to answer. “We’re going to the movies, there’s a marathon that the French society at the university are showing.”

For a moment, Andrew almost said something… before he gave a slight shrug; Moreau knew about Neil’s talent and was taking sparring lessons from Renee, so he was a semi-adequate escort. _Semi_. It also was unreasonable for Neil to stay cooped up in his apartment all the time, now that he didn’t have a psycho ghost keeping him on a mystical leash. Should something happen (nothing _better_ happen), Moreau would call Renee to kick ass in her ‘I’m a good Christian now but that doesn’t mean I won’t bash your skull in with minimal effort’ way.

Besides, Andrew already spent more than enough time with Neil as it was – in the morning, at work, in the evening… he didn’t need to be there on the weekends unless necessary. Especially not when he had plans at Eden’s. They’d gone shopping the night before, so Neil was all stocked up (and it wasn’t unrealistic to expect Reynolds to show up at some point that weekend, along with Renee, to inflict herself upon the poor freak with a bag of groceries and some new item for either his wardrobe or apartment).

Andrew was rid of him for a couple of days. Neil wasn’t his problem until Monday, leaving him free and clear. Leaving him free to enjoy himself without hesitation.

He _was_ going to enjoy himself, dammit.

The ‘monsters’ went out on Saturday since Aaron was stuck on call at the hospital and Nicky had some thing with Erik on Friday night, which meant that Andrew got an extra-long work-out in at the gym before he spent the night catching up on his reading. It would have been a bit better if Renee had joined him for a sparring session, but they usually only did those on Thursday evenings. He made do with a punching bag and weights, and wore himself out enough that he didn’t dream much once he went to sleep.

Eden’s was busy Saturday night, which wasn’t a surprise considering it was the weekend and before spring break. It meant that the dance floor was packed and that Andrew had to wait until the later part of the night for his hook-up with Roland, who didn’t have much time to spare in the back room. They made do with a mutual jerk-off session, during which Andrew found himself staring at Roland’s sculpted chest while he thought about how he disliked brown eyes, that any other color were better, especially pale blue ones….

“You okay?” the bartender asked while they tended to their appearances before leaving the room. “You seem a bit… well, work been bad or something lately?”

It wasn’t unheard of for Roland to ask something almost personal like that, not when they’d known each other for years, but on the whole Andrew didn’t tell him much more other than if he was busy or going to be out of town for a week or two. They weren’t ‘lovers’ or boyfriends, they were fuckbuddies without strings attached or any expectations (other than they remained disease-free and would say something the moment that changed, or either wanted to put an end to their arrangement).

“I’m fine,” Andrew said without inflection, and had an odd spasm with his lips which he suppressed as he tossed the used bar towel aside before leaving the room.

There better be drinks at the table.

Fortunately for his brother and cousin, there were (the two had returned to take a break from dancing – more like twitching in place on the too-crowded dance floor), but there wasn’t a Kevin. According to a rather tipsy Nicky, it seemed that he’d run into an old fuckbuddy of his own, who had a new boyfriend into threesomes, and been invited to ‘play’.

Andrew gave his brother, who wasn’t quite so drunk, a curious look, and received a level nod in return. “He was still sober enough to make up his own mind, and appeared excited about it, too. From what I saw, the guys didn’t pressure him at all, just threw the offer out there once and that was it.” Aaron grimaced a little while Nicky leered. “This one,” he motioned to their cousin, “asked if they were into foursomes when Kevin took them up on it.”

“Hey! Erik and I are confident in our relationship, and those two were _hot_!”

“Am I the only one in this family who’s normal? I need a fucking drink,” Aaron whined as he searched for a shot of flavored vodka while Nicky made kissing gestures until he got a hand shoved in his face; Andrew ignored the morons, content that Kevin was all right (and not his problem at the moment).

What was a problem? The fact that later that night he woke up hard and moments from creaming his boxer-briefs like a damn teenager, all thanks to a dream where he had _Neil Josten_ pinned against the wall of his office, blue eyes gazing down on him with blatant need while Andrew sucked his dick. Despite the hand-job from Roland a few hours ago, Andrew jerked himself to completion while his conscious mind completed the fantasy, as he thought about the feel of Neil’s firm thighs beneath his palms and those pale eyes staring at him with something other than confusion or derision or hate.

His day didn’t get any better, not when Renee showed up around noon; he was already into the whiskey and a pint of ice cream while some movie he didn’t even remember picking played in the background.

Upon seeing her dour expression on the other side of his front door, he tried to ignore her, but she kept knocking and called out his name. “Andrew, it’s important.”

It always was, wasn’t it? “Is the world going to blow up?” he asked as he cracked the door open about two inches.

“No.”

“Fuck off, then.” Anything less than that, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with (ever), but unfortunately, he’d underestimated Renee’s strength and she managed to push her way inside. “Funny, you’re not fucking off.”

“I’m sorry, but like I said, this is important.” She gave him an apologetic smile as she stepped farther into the apartment. “We need to talk.”

That never boded well, did it? About what, his impending death, with any luck…. “I need more whiskey then, and this better not be about more ‘fated’ stuff’ or I will pick you up, as distasteful as it will be, and throw you out the nearest exit.” He gave a pointed look at the balcony as he recited the familiar but all too true threat.

Renee closed her eyes while she clutched at her cross for a couple of seconds, her lips moved without any sound coming forth for several heartbeats. “There are times when you make things unreasonably difficult, you know,” she finally voiced out loud.

As if he didn’t hear that on a weekly basis.

“More whiskey, now,” he stated as he picked up his melting pint of ice cream and empty glass then went into the kitchen.

Of course, Renee followed, because life was nothing but disappointment and pain, and she was determined to live up to both at the moment. While he poured sweet, sweet alcohol into his glass, she grabbed a mug and filled it with water.

“What bon mots do you have for me today?” he asked as he scooped the last of the mushy ice cream. “Any winning lottery numbers? More freaky stuff? Or just here to say you finally came to your senses and dumped Reynolds?”

Renee gave a longing glance at the bottle of whiskey before she sighed and went to fetch the box of herbal tea instead. “Sometimes, you make things extremely, unreasonably difficult.”

“It must be bad if you’re trying to sweet-talk me so much,” he said after clicking his tongue.

She gave him an impenetrable look for a couple of seconds while he sipped the whiskey before she resumed toying with the silver cross around her neck. “You know, for the longest time, I wondered why it took so many years for my visions to start, why it didn’t happen sooner and keep me from joining the gang.” Something painful flashed across her features and darkened her eyes as her right hand crept across her shoulder and onto her back, where Andrew knew she bore an old tattoo in the shape of poorly done ‘angel’ wings. “Then I realized that sometimes, certain things need to happen, as painful as they are, because in the end? The good outweighs the bad.”

If he were the type, he’d laugh at that bit of nonsense; instead, he scoffed after he finished the last of the whiskey. “Spare me the platitudes, Christian Girl.”

“No, I mean it,” she argued as she shook her head. “If I’d seen what would happen with the gang, I wouldn’t have joined and so wouldn’t have gone to prison and found the church, wouldn’t have met Stephanie and then Allison. Sometimes what seems like a wrong turn or a dead end is really the right path.”

He sneered at that bit of nonsense. “So everything you’ve suffered made it worthwhile? You really believe that?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation while meeting his gaze. “I can’t answer for everyone, but I wouldn’t be the person I am now, wouldn’t have been able to better myself and learn the things I have, if it weren’t for the obstacles I overcame.”

He wanted to ask her if it was the same with _him_ , if everything he had to suffer as a child, in all those foster homes, was to make _him_ a better person, but she continued to gaze back with that damn serenity which grated on his nerves sometimes (most of the time) and didn’t say it, didn’t push, so he let it go (despite the urge to lash out). Instead, he asked the other question on his mind. “What’s about to happen that’s gonna be bad but necessary, at least in your so humble opinion, hmm?”

Renee fiddled with the box of tea she’d set out on the counter, an obvious stalling tactic, which made him think it wasn’t good, whatever she was about to tell him. “The auction’s necessary,” she finally said in a small voice while he contemplated more alcohol (well, that and violence).

“The auction.” When she nodded, he clicked his tongue again. “The auction you suggested.” There was some irony to be found in the situation.

“Yes.” Her gaze grew distant as her hands fell to fuss with the material of her full, pale pink skirt. “I should have realized it when I felt a strong urge to suggest it, but there’s been… oh, call them ‘impressions’ the last day or two that something’s going to happen. Something that puts me on edge, that warns me to be cautious, yet there’s also the strong feeling that it needs to play out.”

Just as something told Andrew that he better pour himself some more whiskey. “And what about me, hmm? Do I happen to be involved?” She nodded right when he picked up the bottle. “And let me guess, does a certain polyglot freak happen to be involved, too?” he asked while he poured the alcohol into the glass.

When she gave a reluctant nod, he didn’t stop pouring until the whiskey threatened to overflow the rim of the glass. “I strongly suggest that you’re gone by the time I finish this, or you really will find yourself going out via the balcony,” he warned as he picked up the tumbler with care (so as not to waste any alcohol).

“Andrew… it’ll work out, you’ll see,” Renee promised as she fetched the mug from the microwave and set it in the sink. “Between you and Neil.” When he pointedly gazed at her while drinking down the whiskey in steady gulps, she sighed and nodded once. “Goodbye.”

The front door closed behind her right as he set the empty glass on the counter.

He blamed Renee’s visit and all the whiskey he drank for him being in such a lousy mood come Monday morning, why he showed up at Neil’s apartment and didn’t say anything when Neil answered the door with a slight smile on his (handsome) face or offered an egg sandwich after making a spare one for breakfast. It appeared that someone had a good weekend (lucky him), though Neil’s mood dampened after a couple of minutes (he put the sandwich in the fridge for later) and he was quiet on the drive to work.

That was fine with Andrew.

They got there a little early, which meant there wasn’t anyone else in the break room when they arrived. Andrew felt a slight pulse of disappointment at the lack of any snacks on the counter (even if his stomach was still a little unsettled) but figured chances were good someone would bring something in later.

He’d just poured himself some coffee and Neil had fixed a cup of tea when Kevin stumbled into the room, bleary-eyed and dressed in clothes which Andrew was willing to bet didn’t belong to him, considering the color scheme (pale blue and white) and how they were a bit loose and just a touch too short. Hmm, someone hadn’t gone home yet, had they?

“Coffee, I need coffee,” Kevin mumbled as he lurched forward while shrugging off his lightweight black leather jacket, which he’d worn to the club Saturday night. “ _Now_.” He shoved the coat at a confused Neil then reached for a clean mug from the stack set out near the coffee machine.

Andrew realized too late what the jackass was doing before he could stop him (or knock the coat aside), while Neil appeared to attempt to block having the leather jacket dumped on him only to freeze when the material came in contact with his mostly covered hands. His (fake) eyes grew dilated as his power kicked in then minute tremors racked his body, and all the while Kevin prattled on in obliviousness.

“I’m so tired.” He stifled a yawn while he poured coffee into the mug, some of the fragrant liquid splashed onto the counter from the way his hand shook. “But it was a great weekend.” He looked up at Andrew in time for the jacket to be snatched away from a still stunned Neil and thrown in his face. “Hey, what?”

As soon as the coat was taken away, Neil bolted from the room as if chased by demons; Andrew heard Seth yell at him, something about watching where he ran. “Keep your shit to yourself or I’ll make you eat it,” he told Kevin as he grabbed his coffee in preparation of leaving the room.

“But I-“

He didn’t stick around to listen to the man’s excuse, and shoved past a glowering Seth who muttered about rude assholes.

There’d been that comment the one time from Neil about picking up on Kevin’s ‘daddy issues’ (his pathetic need to please Wymack, who was such a proud father it was disgusting to witness), but Andrew suspected that there were more issues than that at play when Neil was back to intentionally ignoring him during their session with Peter later that morning. Since the boy was mostly speaking in English at that point, Neil didn’t have to talk much, but he was expected to pay attention since he might be called as a witness during Peter’s asshole father’s trial.

Instead, Neil stood as far away from Andrew as he could, his gaze focused on the floor most of the time with his hands tucked into the sleeves of the dusky blue, lightweight sweater Reynolds had bought for him.

Andrew felt a very strong urge to throttle Kevin.

He waited until after lunch (which Neil appeared to eat alone in his office) to confront the idiot, during a time when they both were free from any sessions with kids. Neil didn’t lock his door anymore, so Andrew prepared himself a mug of coffee and waltzed into the other man’s office.

Busy typing, Neil stopped immediately and made an abortive motion toward his right pocket while he glared at Andrew. “Go away.”

“No.” Andrew locked the door behind him before he went to sprawl out in the room’s spare chair. “You’ve hurt my feelings with this whole ‘ignoring’ thing,” he said with as much mock affront as he could summon (which granted, wasn’t a lot).

“What feelings?” Neil shot back as he huddled in his own chair, his expression blank even though there was a hint of acid in his voice.

“Oh, the rabbit is baring his teeth,” Andrew mused as he gave the coffee in his mug a slight swirl to make sure the sugar was properly dissolved. “It must be bad.”

“I’m not a rabbit.”

“Oh, so you prefer ‘freak’?” Andrew slurped his coffee while Neil’s glare grew more potent. “Speaking of which, what did you see, hmm? What did that disturbing and unfortunate talent of yours reveal about Kevin? Philosophical differences on which side he tucks? Disgusted to learn that he puts raw eggs in his morning smoothie?” When Neil’s expression grew blank once more, Andrew decided to focus on something more specific which had happened the other night. “Or, despite your declarations of ‘not swinging’, are you jealous that he got it on this past weekend with two guys?”

“Not your turn,” Neil told him, his voice gone hoarse and arms wrapped around his long legs, which he’d drawn up to rest with his heels on the edge of his chair when Andrew referenced Kevin’s ‘naughty’ shenanigans.

Somehow, the all-too familiar refrain wasn’t a surprise, though it was an annoyance; Andrew clicked his tongue while he went over their last couple of exchanges. “So it does have something to do with Kevin and his little ménage-a-trois, doesn’t it? Just nod that empty head of yours,” he told Neil, which earned him both a rude gesture and a savage scowl (he detested those awful brown contacts).

Yet Neil eventually gave a curt nod.

“And considering the fact that you’ve barely spoken to me today, I’m going to guess that your foul mood also has something to do with where Kevin and I went on Saturday, correct?”

There was another quick nod, and a hint of what Andrew thought might be hurt in Neil’s false eyes.

“Ah.” Andrew had a sip of coffee before he set it aside, on Neil’s desk, more in a hopeless attempt to wash away the taste of bitterness in his mouth than anything else. “Let’s see if I have this right then – someone who doesn’t care for sex has decided to get on a high horse about those of us who go to a bar to have a few drinks and some fun, and perish the thought that we go off to have consensual sex afterwards. Very mature, Josten.”

Distaste twisted Neil’s handsome face as he folded even tighter in on himself. “It’s not- you think I’m a prude, don’t you?” he scoffed as he shook his head. “First, it’s not just a bar,” he threw back at Andrew even as he shuddered. “It’s one of those places you go to find people who want to be hurt and controlled, things like that.”

“That’s not-“

Neil ignored Andrew’s attempt to correct him as he seemed to look at something that wasn’t there – at something that was probably in his head. At Kevin’s memories, most likely, distorted by his own perceptions and misconceptions. “And it wasn’t just Kevin, was it? He goes there to get drunk and find people to… to do _those_ things with,” he said with obvious revulsion as his entire body was wracked with shudders, “to hit them and be hit, to take pleasure in it, and _you_ do to.” Neil finally looked at Andrew while it sunk in that somehow, Neil had picked up through Kevin (oh ho, how someone was about to die soon) about him and Roland. “You go and _use_ someone, use them at that awful place.”

Kill Kevin later for getting him into this mess, but first – what the h _ell_ was Neil thinking? “What the fuck are you saying?” Andrew demanded to know as he leaned forward, body tight with tension. “Are you implying that I go to Eden’s to hurt someone?” He and Roland might be fuckbuddies, might not be in it for more than casual sex, but it was consensual and there were lines that Andrew would _never_ cross.

The look of betrayal was back in Neil’s eyes as he stared at Andrew. “You go there and you do those things,” he said in a quiet, oddly desperate voice as if he had to force himself to speak the words. “You and Kevin.”

Andrew found himself on his feet without realizing that he’d moved, and only the sight of Neil flinching made him pause before he took another step forward. “What Kevin and I do is a _hundred percent consensual_ ,” he gritted out as a seething fury bubbled up inside him, as his hands clenched into fists. “Kevin might get into some kinkier shit now and then, but only with people who are completely willing to go along with it or I would have broken his neck by now. And not that it’s any of your fucking business, you shitty little freak, but I’m not into ‘hurting’ the people I have sex with.”

Neil flinched again but didn’t look away. “It’s what you do, it’s what you all do.” There was an odd roteness to those words as his gaze once again grew vacant. “Can’t trust you, can’t trust any of you, can’t let any of you close. You just use people and hurt them.”

First off? What. The. Fuck.

Second? That sounded like something that had been drilled into a certain idiot freak’s head, something that a known paranoid woman and then ghost would have done (if one were to guess), which made the rage fester inside Andrew yet again for several seconds until he mentally tamped it down to a (barely) controllable level.

They shouldn’t have exorcised the undead bitch, only because she was well and truly gone which meant he couldn’t beat the shit out of her for fucking Neil up so much.

“Neil. _Neil_.” He had to slap his palms onto the surface of the old wooden desk to make Neil look at him and shut up. “Who told you that, hmm? Your mother? She teach you that...,” he couldn’t believe that _he_ was the one saying this, “she teach you some bullshit that sex is bad or something?”

“It’s not bullshit,” Neil argued as his fingers crept up into his thick, dyed hair. “She… I know it’s the truth, okay? It might start out okay, but it always ends in pain, in someone tearing you apart.” He closed his eyes and shuddered as if in real suffering while he tugged on the strands.

As if remembering something.

As if _feeling_ it. _Experiencing_ it.

(In a second-hand way because of his freak talent.)

Realization dawned in Andrew as the rage surged forth again, all of it focused on a dead woman who must have forced her memories, her own experiences, on her son (Neil said something about ‘her’ when he mentioned Andrew’s memories the one time…). He didn’t give a damn how much she’d been hurt (all the comments about how much Neil’s father had been a ‘terrible’ man), not when she’d inflicted that hurt in turn on an innocent, on someone she should have protected ( _when_ had she done it?). When she’d used such awful experiences to further isolate Neil, to twist him up even more into someone who would forever stand alone from everyone else.

For a moment Andrew wished that he was just as much of a freak as Neil and Renee, just so he could call Mary back from the afterlife or wherever she’d gone and tear her to shreds for what she’d done to her own child.

“It’s not like that,” he gritted out as he struggled to not grab onto Neil and shake sense into him, to resort to violence of some sort (his default).

“It is,” Neil continued to argue, his voice and demeanor haggard. “I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen what one messed-up person showed you,” Andrew argued back as his fingers clenched so hard into fists that they ached. “What one even more messed-up person did to her – you told me that your father was a fucked-up, abusive bastard, right? So of course he hurt your mother. Not everyone’s like that. Dig a little deeper into Kevin’s memories,” fuck, Andrew thought he’d just thrown up a little in his mouth at the thought, “and you’ll see that he enjoyed things, right? Everything was okay, if a bit… yeah, okay, it was all right.” No more thinking about Kevin having sex, _ever_.

He was so kicking Kevin’s ass for getting him in this mess.

Neil shuddered again as if he hated the idea of doing that just as much as Andrew did suggesting it. “But… I don’t… his memories….” Neil’s handsome face grimaced with distaste. “There’s too much.” He opened his eyes and gazed at Andrew in a beseeching manner.

Oh no, Andrew wasn’t sharing anything to prove a point – he’d just reinforce whatever that bitch Mary had shoved into Neil’s addled head, with his luck. “Go hit up Matt,” Andrew ‘suggested’, uncaring if Boyd’s privacy was invaded; him and Dan seemingly had a pretty normal and stable relationship.

“I don’t want to ‘see’ this stuff,” Neil complained as he rubbed his face. “It’s confusing and disturbing.”

“Then listen to me.” Andrew leaned over the desk and gazed at Neil until the idiot looked straight at him. “Your mother was in an abusive relationship with a sadist and for whatever reason,” that was a bit of a lie, she was a manipulative bitch who wanted Neil cut off from everyone, “she led you to believe everyone was like him. That’s not the case. Trust me, if all everyone got out of sex was pain and degradation, very few people would bother with it.”

Perhaps more came across with that statement than he’d intended, or perhaps Neil had picked up more from his memories than he’d let known, but there was a flash of pained understanding in the younger man’s expression for a moment before it grew blank. “Yeah, but it happens, doesn’t it?” He held Andrew’s gaze until things became uncomfortable (even more uncomfortable) then ducked his head. “I’ve things to finish up.”

Andrew didn’t say anything else as he left the room.

He was almost late for his final session of the day after spending over half an hour outside chain-smoking, and sent a text to Renee to meet him at the gym after work; it wasn’t their usual day for a spar, but Wymack had taken one glance at him and asked if he needed to press charges against someone, something he only brought up if he felt that Andrew had just come from a rougher than usual session. When Andrew had shaken his head in response, the old man gave him a considering look for several seconds before telling him to go talk to Bee and walking away.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when there was a message from Neil that Moreau was taking him home that night, passed off as them trying a new place for dinner – Neil, the person who only used disposable chopsticks, his hands or his own utensils whenever they got take-out food, and always turned people down when they asked him to eat out for lunch or after work.

As an excuse it was flimsy as hell.

Still, it allowed Andrew to catch Kevin out in the parking lot and let the bastard know that they were on for a rendezvous of their own at the gym tomorrow after work; Kevin caught one look from him and all the blood drained from his face before he nodded, a glassy gleam to his green eyes as he took a step back, before Andrew unlocked his car and climbed inside.

He was able to vent a little ( _a little_ ) by lifting weights and beating the shit out of a punching bag before Renee showed up, unusually quiet and eyes shadowed with a familiar darkness which contrasted with her rainbow-tipped hair and pink sweats. They faced off against each other on the padded dark blue mat, their hands taped and feet bare, mouth guards in and a timer counting down as the only concessions for protection – then Andrew twitched and the fight began.

It was one where they almost lasted until the timer rang out the fifteen-minute limit, one where they seemed determined to keep beating the other into that padded mat, to vent out the never-ending pool of fury/hurt/betrayal that they’d buried too deep inside of themselves. They may have overcome so much, may have (mostly) tamed their demons and moved on from the monsters who’d tried so hard to break them (had left so many scars on both their bodies and psyches)… but that pool had never been drained, would never go away despite Natalie Shields becoming Renee Walker and Andrew (AJ) Doe becoming Andrew Minyard.

Despite all their efforts, despite all the sweat and blood they’d shed (their own and others), their past was part of them. Sometimes, Andrew thought it was the biggest part, was all-encompassing, was some sort of symbiotic Siamese twin that syphoned everything good and vital from his life and only left him the dregs, the barest necessities of survival.

(Like today; he thought it had been a good weekend, a good week, a good couple of weeks and then Neil had looked at him like _that_ and-)

His thoughts unfocused (focused on Neil), Renee managed to land a hit that snapped his head to the side with enough force that he was seeing stars, then swiped his left foot off the ground to make him unbalanced enough that he tumbled down. He got a punch in to her left kidney on his way to the floor, and took some satisfaction in her pained wheeze even as he landed on his ass.

“Guh-good fight,” Renee gasped while she held out her hand to him, her face flushed and damp with sweat.

He grunted in response and considered getting up by himself, but he was sore and exhausted so accepted it after all, even though he was quick to let go once on his feet. “Another round?”

Renee appeared to consider it for a moment, then her eyes grew glazed before she shook her head. “Not a good idea today. Let’s go outside.” She nodded in the direction of the nearest exit and waited for him to nod before she went over to where she’d put her phone, a bottle of water and a towel.

The cool evening air felt welcome to his sweat-covered skin, and they both had something to drink before Renee spoke. “He’ll come around, just give him a day or two.”

Andrew clicked his tongue in disgust. “More of your psychic bullshit?” How much had she ‘seen’?

“Somewhat, that and Jean mentioned he was having dinner with Neil because Neil wanted to talk to him about something important.” She dabbed at her bruising right cheek and winced. “I believe whatever you said to him earlier got through, at least a bit.”

‘A little bit’. Andrew recalled that awful expression of blankness on Neil’s face as he talked about never letting anyone ‘close’, how he’d huddled in on himself in a desperate (futile) effort to make himself smaller (less of a target). How Andrew could still so easily feel detested hands on him, despised breath on his neck, hear ‘AJ’ whispered in his ear before the pain and degradation would start-

“Do you know what they’re talking about?” When Renee shook her head, her shoulder-length hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail, he clicked his tongue again. “Do you know why he was so upset today?”

“No.” She hesitated for a moment. “Just that it won’t change things between you.”

‘Things between them’, wasn’t that such a loaded statement? As if there would ever be ‘things’ between him and a freak of a liar, other than an arrangement. “Kevin was rather careless with his belongings after doing big boy things all weekend, which he’ll learn tomorrow never to do again, and so I found out that Casper decided to teach Neil that sex is bad by sharing some very nasty memories on her part.” He kept his tone indifferent throughout the whole statement, but he also stood there with sore ribs and darkening bruises after doing his best to pulverize several of Renee’s internal organs, so she could more than read between the lines.

Renee paused in unwrapping the tape from her hands to clench them into fists for a moment, her brows drawn over her eyes in a fierce scowl, before she let out a slow breath. “She’s gone now.”

“Yeah, and all it’ll take is a wave of the hand to undo the years of damage she inflicted on the idiot.” Andrew scoffed as he thought of Neil in his hovel of an apartment, of those stupid contacts and dyed hair and… and he thought of the other man too much.

“I don’t know, he’s become friends with Jean and he allows you to help him, that’s something she never would have approved of, right?” Renee offered one of her stupid smiles as she rolled the tape in a ball.

“He ‘allows’ me to help because he has no choice.” It wasn’t like Neil had other options, thanks to his freakish power and wonderful social skills.

“Hmm, there’s always Jean or myself, or one of his uncle’s people. You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she chided before she groaned. “Oh, I need a nice, hot shower. We still on for Thursday?”

“Yes.” He doubted the week would improve any and so could use a chance to work out some more frustrations that evening.

“Okay.” She paused to have some water before motioning for them to go inside. “It’ll get better, you’ll see.”

“Enough with that bullshit or we’ll head back to the mat right now,” he warned as he tucked his water bottle beneath his left elbow and began to remove the tape on his left hand.

Renee made the ‘zipping of lips’ motion, yet her dark eyes sparkled with some bright emotion as they walked back into the gym.

Next time, he had to see about paying off some customs official to keep her out of the country, dammit.

*******

Neil swallowed a sigh when Jean entered his flat and immediately began to scowl at everything; he didn’t know why, especially since Allison and Renee (more Allison) had been dropping off things in the last few weeks to make it more ‘bearable’. There were a few prints on the wall now, a couple of pictures of London since Allison had found out that he’d lived there and one a framed scrap of an old quilt which was quite beautiful, a colorful (and soft) blanket draped over what he considered ‘Andrew’s’ chair along with some throw pillows on both pieces of furniture (Renee must have washed the ones on his, mindful not to touch them too much until delivery to his flat). There was even some fancy coffee machine which Neil never used in the kitchen and a new toaster on the counter, so the space looked less ‘empty’.

“ _Just sit down and eat_ ,” Neil ordered as he went to put on some tea for himself, careful to motion for Jean to sit in the ‘guest’ chair. “ _Ah, do you want something to drink?”_ Well, meaning tea or water or some fruit juice.

“Coffee?” Jean asked as he set the bags on the small kitchen table.

Neil winced a little and waved toward the fancy machine with the little pods next to it. “ _You figure it out, I’ve never used it_.” While he talked, he fetched a mug for his friend, and smiled to see Jean examine the machine with a determined expression. “ _Do you need anything else_?”

“ _No, this should be fine_.” Jean selected a random pod (at least to Neil) after a few seconds and put it into the machine, then went to fill the water reservoir; Neil gathered some paper towels and, after putting on some water to boil for a pot of tea once Jean was done, sat down at the table while there was a loud whirring sound and sorted out the take-away containers and utensils.

The disposable chopsticks were fine for him with his order of shrimp pad thai, and once Jean sat down at the table with his coffee concoction, he appeared fine with them as well for his red curry chicken dish.

Neil used his nails as much as possible to remove the lid of container (there was a flash of concentration/rush to complete things/faint sense of faces which Neil took to be the family of the food’s cook); he stirred the mix of noodles and had a couple of bites (it was on the spicy side and delicious – he’d have to ask Jean about the place and order from there in the future).

He waited until after the pot of tea was steeping and Jean had some of his red curry with chicken to talk. “ _Thanks for coming over tonight_.”

Jean gave a slight shrug before he had a sip of coffee. “ _I didn’t have any plans and you bought dinner_.” He rested his chopsticks on the top of the black plastic take-away container as he gazed at Neil. “ _What’s on your mind_?”

Neil paused as he thought about the best way to phrase his question; he’d picked up a few things when Jean had touched him or he the various items in the art room, had _seen_ the awful things that Riko had done to his friend – more exactly, had allowed other men to do to Jean. “ _Uhm, so today, I unwillingly touched something of Kevin’s._ ” He grimaced as he picked through his dinner to remove all of the green onions to set them aside. “ _Do you know about that club he and the others go to_?”

Jean grimaced as well. “ _Nicky has invited me a couple of times, and tried to get a group together for their Halloween party. It’s… an acquired taste_.” Jean’s scowl made it clear that it was a taste he didn’t share with the ‘monsters’, as Andrew and his little group were called. “ _So you got a… dose or whatever of what Kevin is into_ ,” he said while waving his left hand around in the air.

“Yes.” Neil got up to pour his tea, in part to give him something to do. “ _I… I don’t understand such things, and I don’t think it’s because it’s sex in general._ ” They’d talked a little, him and Jean, when his friend had asked if he was upset about Jean spending time with Jeremy.

“ _No, I don’t understand such things, either_.” Jean shook his head as he rubbed his right thumb along his left index finger, which wasn’t quite straight because of a badly set broken bone – a ‘souvenir’ from his time with Riko. “ _Did he say anything_? _Kevin_?”

“ _Not him, but Andrew_.” Neil returned to the table and nibbled on his bottom lip while he thought about that conversation. “ _He told me… we got into an argument about how sex isn’t always bad, how it isn’t about pain_.” Jean stiffened at those words. “ _I guess I wanted to find out what you think, if you believe it can be good_.” Neil offered his friend an apologetic smile. “ _I only know what… well, I only know it through other’s experiences_.”

“I see.” Jean was quiet after that as he finished his coffee then got up to brew another cup; while the machine whirled and sputtered out strongly-scented caffeine, he checked the cabinets until he found where Andrew kept a bottle of whiskey, which made him grunt in satisfaction upon discovery and add a generous dollop of the alcohol to the freshly brewed coffee.

Then he returned to the table, where he had a drink of what had to be a still hot beverage before he spoke again. “ _If you’d asked me a year or two ago, I probably would say that Minyard’s wrong. But today?_ ” He stared into the mug held between his hands and frowned for a couple of seconds. “ _I think it depends on your partner, in the end. Some only want to hurt you, yes, but others? That’s the last thing they want_.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Neil told him, aware of what that answer must have cost his friend, and sincerely hoped that Jeremy was one of the latter types. If not? Well, perhaps there was a way for Uncle Stuart to earn his way back in Neil’s good graces.

Jean nodded and looked at Neil, his expression intent; he had some more coffee then set it aside so he could pick up his chopsticks. Despite not having a strong appetite anymore, Neil did the same. “So… you and Minyard… such ‘interesting’ conversations you have,” Jean remarked with narrowed eyes as if searching for some sort of sign.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Neil argued as he picked up a piece of shrimp. “I just think he likes telling me I’m an idiot and starting fights with me.”

“Huhn.” Jean appeared ready to say more for a moment, then shook his head and had a few more bites to eat before he changed the topic to some arts festival the university always put on before the students left for the summer. He promised that there would be a day or two when it wouldn’t be too crowded, so Neil agreed to go since it would be outside and sounded fun.

Jean was careful to throw his container and chopsticks away, and even washed his mug and put it back so Neil didn’t have to touch anything. Neil saw him to the door and wished him a good night, then spent some time reading news in Russian and Ukrainian before getting ready for bed.

He dreamt of his parents that night, dreamed about being back down in the basement of the house in Baltimore, of Lola holding him ( _Nathaniel_ ) trapped in place, her long, lacquered nails biting into his forearms while Mary was strapped to the stainless steel table, as her screams filled the subterranean room while a grinning Nathan carved her up piece by piece.

There were days (most days) when Neil wished that he could just… just find something old and peaceful and incomprehensible, and let its memories fill him until there was nothing left of ‘Neil’ (or Abram or Nathaniel or Alex or Stefan or Eike or Henryk or… or whoever he really was) anymore.

Until then, he did what he always did, which was pull himself back together and keep moving, to get ready for another day. After taking a shower and getting dressed, he had some tea and toast for breakfast (unable to stomach anything more than that), and was drinking a second cup when Andrew arrived.

His coworker appeared as ‘well-rested’ as he felt, which Neil felt a slight bit of guilt over, considering their conversation yesterday; the dark circles beneath Andrew’s eyes were larger than usual (along with a bruise on his jaw) and there was a lack of sarcasm in his greeting. In fact, there was a lack of greeting all-together.

Neil gave him a nervous smile as he held up his mug. “Uhm, one moment? Do you want something to drink?”

Andrew gave a quiet grunt before he went to fetch a mug and make himself some coffee, pausing a moment as he selected one of the pods or whatever they were called. “Thought you didn’t drink this stuff.”

“I don’t,” Neil explained after a sip of tea. “Jean had some when he was over yesterday.”

“Thought you went out to eat.”

Neil shook his head at the thought of sitting in some restaurant after dealing with people all day, especially yesterday. “We picked something up and brought it here.” Surprised that Andrew was so curious (unless it was part of his whole ‘job’ with Stuart), he continued on once the coffee was brewed. “I wanted to talk to him about… well, about things.”

Now Andrew’s expression was almost thoughtful (for the man) as he fetched milk and sugar to dump an ungodly amount in his beverage. “And?”

“And I’m not going to touch Matt’s things,” Neil said as he fought not to shudder at the idea. “But… but maybe you were right. Maybe.” It wasn’t as if it mattered in the long run, since Neil had no intention (or opportunity) to find out on his own.

Andrew snorted at the answer. “Of course I’m right, I’m always right.” He paused in lifting the mug to his mouth to give Neil a patronizing look. “Things will go so much better for you if you just accept that fact and do what I tell you.”

Neil gave the man a rude gesture for that nugget of ‘wisdom’ while he finished his tea.

The ride into work that day was more comfortable than the day before, if almost as quiet, but Neil didn’t mind quiet. Once they arrived, he made sure to tug the sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt (a light grey one that Allison had given him) as far over his fingers as possible, and noticed that Andrew hovered a little closer than usual.

Nicky, Aaron and Katelyn were gathered together in the break room, with Nicky holding out a box of something (it amazed Neil, how often his coworkers brought in sweets). “Hey guys,” he called out when he caught sight of them. “Want some fried dough? I felt a bit nostalgic last night and made a bunch.”

Andrew headed over to take his cousin up on the offer, while Neil shook his head and went to brew some tea to take into his office. When his… when Andrew joined him at the counter to fetch a mug for coffee, he narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Renal failure before thirty.”

“What does an old man like you care?” Andrew asked before he bit into the sugar-dusted treat.

“What? But… but I’m younger than you,” Neil reminded the sugar addict, especially since ‘Neil Josten’ was older than Nathaniel Wesninski.

“Old mentally,” Andrew clarified once half the pastry was gone. “You don’t drink, you only go out with Valjean to boring art stuff, and you don’t eat anything but fruit and ramen. _Old_.”

Before Neil could dispute that description, Aaron made a loud scoffing sound while he poured himself a mug of coffee. “You seem to know Josten rather well, just how much are you two hanging out together, huh?” He gave his brother an interested look while he poured a second mug, probably for his fiancée.

Andrew, ever the _mature_ soul, made a rude gesture in his twin’s direction before he snatched up another fried dough stick then left the room.

“Ooh, that was interesting!” Nicky proclaimed for some reason, his expression excited, while he gazed at Neil. “Any comment?”

“Stop bringing in so much garbage, it’s not healthy,” Neil said before he left the room as well.

Nicky called out something about him being a killjoy and Andrew being right, which Neil ignored with ease, intent to start another day.

Renee Walker showed up after his hour with Peter and Andrew, ostensibly to talk about their session together later that day, and did spend a few minutes asking about his thoughts on Gael, one of his newest cases. He noted that she sported a couple of new bruises herself, the worst covered with make-up, and recalled both Jean and Matt telling him about how she and Andrew practiced hand-to-hand combat at least once a week (that Jean had admitted to asking her to teach him how to fight now that Riko was gone and he wanted to learn how to properly defend himself).

Once they finished talking about Gael’s progress, she paused as if gathering her thoughts then gave him an encouraging smile. “I hear you and Andrew talked about a few things the other day.”

He was surprised at first over her bringing up the topic… but she and Andrew were friends, he supposed. “Because of Kevin.” He was perfectly willing to focus on the ‘Kevin’ part of it.

“Yes.” When they both were quiet for a couple of seconds, she inhaled slowly while she fiddled with the silver cross hung around her neck. “I know Andrew can come across as harsh and distant, but he’s a good man, good and loyal. He’s also been through a lot, which I’m sure you can understand has left its mark on him. Things might have been a bit rough between you at the start, but he’s serious about being there for you now. I wanted you to know you can trust him.”

“Okay.” That… seemed like a very weird thing for her to come out and confess to him, but Renee wasn’t the easiest of people to understand with her blissful smiles and bloodied past. “I’ll remember that,” Neil said as he tugged at the end of his sleeves, uncomfortable with the whole conversation (about what had brought it about, which Neil was quite happy to forget and move past).

“Yes, please do,” Renee murmured as she stood up to leave (at last).

Andrew checked that Neil still was good on groceries for a few more days (he was) then left after dropping him off at the flat, in a hurry as if he had a prior engagement. Neil went on a run before he made himself dinner, determined to enjoy the weather before it turned hot and humid, then answered some texts from Henry and Jamie while he ate.

Wednesday brought a smug but quiet Andrew and a bruised and skittish Kevin; Neil gave the sports therapist a confused look when Kevin acted terrified of him for some reason. Kevin would immediately leave any room he entered, mindful to keep as much distance between them as possible, while everyone but Andrew stared on in disbelief.

“What’s that about?” Neil asked his… well, his friend, he supposed, when they stopped in the break room for something to drink after their session with Peter.

“Someone proving that _his_ learning curve isn’t a horizontal line,” Andrew stated while staring at Neil for some reason.

That didn’t answer the question, but there was a particular gleam in Andrew’s hazel eyes, along with the slight jut of his firm jaw, which indicated that he wasn’t going to clarify what he’d just said, so Neil sighed and shook his head.

All that mattered was that Kevin stayed out of arm’s reach and didn’t hand over (or throw) things at Neil anymore, or tried to get him to join any work sports teams.

(Didn’t share anymore disturbing memories or revelations.)

Despite the threat of rain, Neil once more changed into a pair of sweat pants, an overlarge sweatshirt with thumbhole sleeves and his trainers once at home so he could go for a run, mostly because he figured sooner or later, Stuart and Andrew would be on him to stop going out on his own after the latest poltergeist mess. As long as Neil kept moving (and carried a knife in his pocket), he should be safe.

It started to rain after just a block or two, but Neil was determined to finish the run so he kept on; he was used to being out in adverse conditions. The cold and wet was unpleasant, but bearable as long as he kept moving.

He was about a third of the way through the usual length of his evening runs (he made sure to vary the path around his neighborhood each time) when he noticed a small, black shape dash across the road around the same time that a car blasted its horn. It took him a moment to realize that it was a tiny kitten, which huddled near the curb while cars continued to drive past.

About to continue onward, Neil’s pace faltered then he found himself turning around and going back to where he’d last spotted the animal, still frozen by the curb. The kitten looked to only be a few weeks old, barely able to survive without its mother, and little more than skin and bones with its black fur plastered to its trembling body from the rain.

He crouched down to pick it up, the poor thing too terrified to move at first, at least until he held it cradled against his chest. As his fingertips touched wet, matted fur, he sensed fear/hunger/loneliness/confusion, along with images of a silver and grey tabby cat, of other kittens, of running from large forms and loud vehicles; animals were much ‘purer’ and simpler with their thoughts and emotions, were easier to bear if a bit confusing at interpreting their memories at times.

Neil was rather certain that the kitten didn’t have a home or a mother to return to, though. There was an impulse long ingrained into him to put it down and walk away, to ignore a possible burden that could endanger him (endanger _them_ )… but he’d chosen to stay in Columbia, hadn’t he?

Instead, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ignored the kitten’s weak and frantic meows as he focused on his talent, on something he hadn’t done in years (since calling the Hatfords). In a way, it was easier to use this particular trick against humans, to unleash it without restraint, but animals… animals required just a small amount of power and a certain emotion at that. He’d always used it against dogs in the past, to quiet them and prevent an attack, but it should work on a cat. Once he felt confident enough, he stroked his right forefinger along the panicking kitten’s forehead and released a ‘pulse’ of trust.

The animal settled immediately; a purring bundle tucked into the left crook of his arm. Neil opened his eyes to find mostly closed pale green ones staring up at him, and gave the kitten a slight smile. “Let’s go home, okay?”

The run back was taken at a slow pace, both because of the kitten and despite him only using his talent on an animal, it still had cost him some energy – enough to feel as if he’d run a dozen or so miles, not only one. He was grateful to return to his flat, which was nice and dry, where he deposited the kitten in a pile of towels after gently rubbing one over its small body, then tended to himself.

Once he changed, he picked up his phone and, after a minute or two of debate, called Andrew.

“What did you do?”

Neil blinked at the question, asked in a bland tone of voice.

“Uhm… what makes you think I did something?” he asked as he sank down on the floor so he could pet the kitten.

“How often do you call me?” Andrew asked, now a hint of interest creeping into his deep voice.

“Ah… well, I found a kitten,” Neil admitted as he fought off a yawn. “Just now.”

“How do you ‘find a kitten?’” Andrew demanded to know. “Did it materialize in your apartment?” When Neil was quiet, he sighed, the sound drawn out for several seconds. “You were out running again, weren’t you? Out running in the rain like a complete idiot.”

Dammit, Neil should have just gone to get the stuff himself, but he didn’t want to leave the kitten alone and… well, he didn’t know _what_ to get and there was the whole shopping thing, bad enough when he wasn’t exhausted. “I found a kitten,” he repeated. “And I need some stuff. If you’re going to be an asshole, I’ll just ask Jean to-“

“How young?” Andrew cut him off before he could tell the man ‘never mind’ and call his friend, whom he probably should have asked in the first place. “How old is the furball?”

“Ah… I’m not sure, really young?” Neil didn’t know much about cats, having never owned one, not with his parents.

“Take a picture and send it to me,” Andrew told him. “I’ll be there in an hour or so. _Don’t_ go running out in the rain like a brain-dead idiot freak again.” He hung up before Neil could call him an asshole.

He took a couple of pictures of the kitten; now that its fur had somewhat dried, faint stripes could be seen in its dark fur – along with a flea or two. Neil did a hasty internet search and carried the poor thing to the bathroom, where he gave it as quick a bath as possible to deal with the pests.

He was seated in the chair with the kitten on his lap while he debated whether he should feed it some canned tuna or milk when Andrew finally showed up, laden down with several bags; he gave Neil a look of long-suffering before dumping them right near the front door then muttered about coming back. Neil blinked at that before he set the kitten aside and went to investigate.

There were lots of small cans of kitten food, a bunch of cat toys, a litter box, two bowls, some treats, a box of litter and even a small bed. Neil had just put down a bowl of water and some of the food in the kitchen when Andrew returned with what appeared to be an unassembled cat tree and a small animal carrier.

“How did you know to get everything?” Neil asked after he returned to living room to look at everything his friend had bought.

“I asked, and someone at the store was only too happy to give suggestions.” Andrew shrugged before he pulled free a knife so he could open the box containing the cat tree. “She also gave me a name of a vet, and now the furball has an appointment tomorrow after work.”

“Oh.” Neil was taken back a little over everything – all the products and a vet and… and the kitten, bits of food clinging to its tiny whiskers, tumbled into the room only to press against his feet and hiss at Andrew.

“Cute,” Andrew remarked in that deadpan way of his while he apparently commenced to build a cat tree. “Takes after you, I see.”

“Funny,” Neil sighed as he bent down to pick up the kitten, which was doing its best to climb up his left leg. “What do I owe you?”

“Stuart picked up the tab, as usual,” Andrew said as he examined a piece of paper then grabbed what looked to be a rope-wrapped pillar and began to screw it to a carpet-padded base.

Neil should have expected that. “Thank you. I’m sorry for interrupting your evening.”

Andrew shrugged, his expression mild as if unbothered by spending time at Neil’s because of some unexpected errand. “Got me out of going over to Nicky’s for some stupid wedding planning.”

Ah, that’s right, Aaron and Katelyn’s wedding. “Still, thank you. Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Make those weird egg bread things with beans,” Andrew ordered, his attention never wavering from his new project.

Neil held up two fingers before he walked away, the purring kitten cradled to his chest, to cook dinner for him and the asshole, a slight smile on his face for some reason.

*******

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Andrew ordered as he stood by the door and watched Neil fuss with the damn cat.

“But-“

“It’s a furball, it’ll be fine. Just make sure the gun’s somewhere safely out of reach.”

“Not funny,” Neil said with a glare as he finally gave the kitten, which had been placed in the very soft and plush-lined bed Andrew had bought for it the evening before, one last pet and stood up (not that Andrew had complained about the sight of Neil Josten crouched next to the furball). “Do you think-“

“It’s been fed, there’s water and a litter box, not to mention a bunch of toys. It’ll be fine.” Andrew had never expected Neil to freak out over a cat, not when he’d only seemed to care about his undead mother in the past, but life was full of surprises. He’d watched the man fuss over a small ball of fur last night and that morning with a slight smile on his face, willingly pet it time and time again.

He waited until they were in the car to resume speaking. “I thought you didn’t like touching things.”

“Hmm? I don’t.” Neil twisted around in his seat to look at Andrew, at first a faint line between his furrowed brows until he seemed to guess what Andrew had meant. “Ah, right.” He rubbed the exposed tips of his fingers together as his expression smoothed out. “Animals are different, they… they’re simpler in a better way. Less complex, less lies, more them living in the moment. It makes them easier to bear.”

Andrew noticed that Neil wasn’t saying that they were dumb or emotionless. “If that’s the case, surprised it took you this long to get one.”

Neil grimaced a little as his hands settled in his lap. “No, not really. We were always on the move when it was me and my mother, and my father… _no_.” He shook his head as if to add emphasis to that ‘no’.

Yet another implication that Neil’s father had been a not-very-nice man, what a surprise. However, if there was one thing that Andrew had learned, it was that Neil would shut down if asked about the bastard; instead, he continued with the previous topic since Neil appeared in a mood to answer without demanding information in return. “Then surprised you didn’t go for a guard dog instead.”

That prompted another grimace. “No,” Neil repeated as his gaze grew distant. “Dogs… I’m not really comfortable around them. The ones I grew up around….” His expression twisted again. “I came across a lot that were trained to be mean.”

‘Trained’. It sounded as if Neil didn’t need the whole ‘it’s not dogs that are bad, but their owners’ talk (which Andrew had heard often enough from Renee and Seth and Nicky and… well, most of the Foxhole staff).

He’d flicked the remains of his cigarette out the window since they were close to work when Neil glanced at him. “What about you? Any pets?”

It looked as if he wasn’t entirely off the hook on their ‘truth for a truth’ deal, but for once he didn’t mind. “No, too busy with work these days and no one was going to waste one on a lousy foster kid.” Neil knew about his past, or at least a rough sketch of it, and gave a solemn nod at that statement. “Bee offered to get one for Aaron and me when she took us in,” some mix of therapy and an attempt at normalcy, “but we knew she wasn’t much for pets and even then, we were too busy with high school and college approaching. It just didn’t make sense.”

“Ah.” Neil nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared at his lap, a slight smile curling it when he picked at a cat hair. “Maybe one day you’ll change your mind. After all, you did a great job on the cat tree and everything.”

Andrew scoffed to show what he thought about that, about him owning a furball of all things.

Nicky was waiting for him in the break room, arms folded over his chest and an indignant expression on his face. “Oh sure, you show up for work but you blow off your beloved cousin and important family matters.”

Neil gave the drama queen a cautious look as he edged over to the hot water dispenser while Andrew clicked his tongue. “I had to help Neil with something, while the wedding isn’t until next July. There’s still plenty of time to plan stuff.” Not even Katelyn was in a rush, considering how busy she was with her medical degree.

Nicky glanced at Neil, as if daring him to back up Andrew’s ‘story’; the freak sighed and gave a slight nod. “I’m sorry to interrupt things, but I needed him to run out to the pet store and-“

“Wait, pet store?” Instantly Nicky’s bad mood fell away and he smiled. “You asked _Andrew_ to do something for you? To go to a _pet store_? What did you get?”

This wasn’t going to end well.

Neil blinked at the moron’s fervor and pressed closer to the counter, but Nicky must have heard about Kevin’s fun little ‘lesson’ the other day and didn’t get too close. “Uhm, I found a kitten last night so-“

“A kitten!” Nicky was practically squealing by that point. “Let me see! How old is it? A boy or a girl? What’s its name?”

Neil appeared a couple of seconds away from freaking out, so Andrew distracted his cousin by showing him the pictures Neil had sent the previous evening while Neil admitted that he hadn’t thought up a name yet nor knew the kitten’s sex (guess his power could only tell so much).

There was more squealing over the images of the black furball before Nicky left on some sort of mission, which was fine by Andrew (and a shell-shocked Neil, apparently). Both gathered their drinks then retreated to their offices, and somehow Andrew wasn’t surprised when Robin stopped by a short while later to inform him that Nicky had started a poll among the staff on what to name the kitten.

(He _may_ have tracked down the poll and picked the most ridiculous one on it, just so Neil was stuck calling the furball it for years to come.)

Andrew never claimed to be a good person, but sometimes, _sometimes_ , the universe rewarded him with things such as the sight of one Neil Josten, slumped down in the passenger seat of his car, bangs pushed to the side of his too handsome face which currently bore a sulky expression, arms folded across his chest as he clearly _pouted_. “How can he do that? I mean… he just came up to me and told me my cat is now called King Fluffkins and everyone at work backed him on it. _How_?”

“Because you were a lame-ass idiot freak who couldn’t decide one on your own so Nicky stepped in and did it for you.” Andrew was just disappointed that his choice of Marquis Meow-Mew Minxy Mittens hadn’t been selected – then Neil _really_ would be throwing a fit.

“Thanks so much,” Neil sneered as he sunk even lower in the seat. “Such amazing support.”

“What were you thinking of instead?”

“Uhm… I don’t know, ‘Shadow’ or something like that,” Neil admitted, then sighed when Andrew gave him a disappointed look. “Is it really any worse than ‘King Fluffkins’?”

“At least they won’t get the furball mixed up at the vets with a name like that.”

Neil appeared to mull it over for a couple of seconds before he nodded once then slowly ascended his way in the seat. “True.”

They picked up King Fluffkins and placed the little rat in the carrier (the kitten hissed at Andrew again but was docile around Neil), then went to the vet the helpful sales clerk at the pet store had recommended. Neil was nervous while they waited to see Dr. Bedford; he stilled when the young man behind the admission desk handed over a clipboard with an information sheet on it, which Andrew accepted and filled out in his stead.

Because of that incident and the whole ‘watch out for the idiot freak’ thing, Andrew went back with Neil when ‘King Fluffkins’ name was called; a vet tech cooed over a hissy King and pronounced ‘it’s a girl!’, which made Neil blink in surprise. Dr. Bedford entered the room a short while later and turned out to be a young woman in her early thirties, dark brown hair lightened with cinnamon streaks framing her face in spiral curls. She took in stride King’s antagonistic nature, though it probably helped that the furball weighed less than two pounds.

“Oh, you found her? Ferals need some help with socialization, I’m surprised she’s adapted to you already,” the vet proclaimed as Neil calmed the kitten down by holding her. “We’ll need to put her on some worming medicine, along with the usual regiment of shots.”

“Uhm, okay,” Neil responded in a quiet voice, apparently surprised by everything that went into taking care of a small creature. When Dr. Bedford rattled off the vaccination schedule while taking a blood sample, Andrew made mental note of the dates and told her they’d bring King back on time.

King was given a clean bill of health and her first round of vaccinations and treatment, and curled up in the carrier as if grateful to be done with all of the poking and prodding. Before Bedford left, she gave Andrew and Neil a bright smile. “It’s always nice to see couples share the responsibility of a pet together.”

**_What?_ **

Before Andrew could do something like throw a knife at her, she slipped out the door, leaving him and a stunned Neil standing there. After a couple of seconds, Neil began swearing in what sounded to be Russian as he picked up the cat carrier then left the room.

Yeah, Andrew knew the feeling.

Andrew paid for the visit and accepted the worm medicine and the shit so Neil could brush King’s teeth while Neil scheduled the next appointment (which okay, he was beginning to see why the vet had made such a _grossly_ inaccurate assumption back there) before they left to return to Neil’s apartment, where King was released upon entry.

Neil had ordered their dinner on the way back from the vets, which arrived not long after he’d fed the furball and changed into sweatpants and an old sweater. They sat down at the kitchen table to eat, with King quick to scramble onto Neil’s lap.

He smiled down at the furball, who obviously was going to be spoiled as shit from what Andrew could see; Neil petted her with one hand and gently shooed her away from the edge of the table when she tried to climb up to investigate his tray of sushi.

“I’m going to laugh if you get worms from that furball,” Andrew remarked as he ate his own sushi.

“I’m sure I’ll survive somehow,” Neil said with a slight eyeroll as he ate his maki rolls with his right hand, which he was careful not to touch King with and had washed before he sat down. “I’m tougher than I look.” He smiled down at King, his expression so open and tender as he rubbed her ears. “We both are.”

There was something about Neil around the damn furball, so… so unguarded and gentle as he touched a creature whose nature didn’t cause him pain or unearth bad memories. Who made him smile in such a way that something clenched hard inside of Andrew’s chest – especially when Neil looked up and directed that smile toward Andrew.

“Thank you,” Neil said in an earnest voice. “I don’t know what I would have done without you the last two days.”

Andrew ducked his head as he dipped his smoked salmon and cream cheese roll in too much soy sauce. “You would have figured out something, had Moreau help you.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t have to because you were there.” Neil smiled a little longer before he took to nibbling on his bottom lip again. “It’s… it’s appreciated.”

Andrew grunted once before he shoved the roll into his mouth, and fortunately it was a quiet meal after that. As soon as his food was gone, he made some excuse about having stuff to do so he could leave before he did something stupid, such as give in to the preposterous urge to lean across the table, take Neil’s face between his hands so he could tease that bottom lip out from between those cruel teeth and kiss the freak breathless.

Preposterous indeed.

King charged at his feet when he neared the front door, sorta flopped over them and then tumbled away, regained her own feet (paws) only to do an arched-back hop thing a couple of times before she fled back to the safety that was a bemused Neil. “Ah, I think she may be getting used to you,” he said, the ridiculously soft smile back on his face.

Andrew felt his chest clench again, felt that damn preposterous urge seize him _so damn hard_ , and walked out of the apartment without saying another word.

He was going to **kill** Renee.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Poor Renee... and poor Andrew's sanity (and liver at this point). 
> 
> But King! King is on the scene!!! I'm enjoying showing more of Neil's talents without all the ghost aspect (and will continue to do so moving forward, with some Renee in the next chapter).
> 
> Uhm... think that's it? Thanks so much for those who are still reading this. As stated, I'm on ch11 now (at least halfway through it) so I'll try for updates every two weeks or so until I run out of new stuff to post. And yes, I'm eyeing a return to Death!Neil/Not in the Stars, but I'm just at SUCH a point in this fic that I want to reach a certain plotline before I move on to something else.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated (I may not always respond, depending on what's going on, but I always read them and they make my day).


	9. Nine Levels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *waves* Wow, another update. I'm hoping to be somewhat on track now, at least for a few more chapters - I just wrapped up ch11 so as long as I keep getting some writing done, there will be updates in the near future. Thank you for still being around to read this.
> 
> Hmm, warnings? Well, mention of Neil's past, Andrew hitting a rough patch (and you shouldn't drink as much as he is, really), but I think that's it?  
> *******

*******

Neil groaned when a wet nose pressed against his cheek, followed by a wave of affection/hunger/playfulness. “What?” he mumbled as he wrapped his hands around King’s small body to gently push her away, which prompted a quiet purr from the kitten. “So demanding.”

She landed a swipe on his jaw (claws thankfully sheathed) as he sat up, and clamored onto his shoulder when he lowered her onto his chest then let go; despite being woken up a few minutes before his alarm went off, he smiled at the feel of soft fur against his neck and the right side of his jaw, of her warm, affectionate emotions, and spent a moment petting her before he turned off the alarm then got up.

King wasn’t a cure-all for the awful memories and nightmares which had plagued him for years, for the past which he couldn’t erase, but her innocent presence helped to soothe him back to sleep when he woke in the middle of the night, head filled with images and emotions from his father’s victims or his own suffering chasing him into the present, or when he got lost in things he wished he could forget. When things got dark, all he had to do was touch her, to stroke her soft fur and feel the affection/trust she held for him.

Despite being tired (he’d dreamt of Seattle that night, of his father and Lola and his mother bleeding out as he drove, of the stench of burnt human flesh while the car still smoldered on that damn beach in California), he smiled as he walked to the kitchen with a purring kitten on his shoulder, faint amusement blossoming in his chest when King began to meow in an imperious manner when they neared the cabinet which housed her food. She hopped down onto the counter and then the floor, where she continued to meow and to stretch her front legs against the lower cabinet door as if reaching for the bowl he’d set on the counter to fill with can food.

“A little patience, all right? I mean, I haven’t even taken a piss yet, you spoiled thing,” he told her with fond exasperation as he set the bowl down, and shook his head when she nearly fell face first into it with the haste to eat. One demanding kitten attended to for the moment, he quickly filled the tea kettle then went to tend to his full bladder.

While King played with the one bird toy (more like pretended to maul it), Neil made breakfast for him and certain American bastard, and was almost finished when Andrew entered the flat; nothing was said while he sipped his tea and stirred the beans, Andrew’s attention focused on the coffee machine (though he did take care to skirt around King, who paused in her mauling to give a half-hearted swipe at his feet). Soon enough the eggs-in-the-nests with the sides of beans were plated and put on the table, to which Andrew replied with a soft grunt before he picked up his fork and began to eat.

King hopped up onto Neil’s lap (he really should break her of the habit) but curled up after a quick sniff at the food so he could eat in peace; as much as he might complain about Andrew ‘demanding’ that he cook and the man infringing on the care packages his family sent… there was an odd comfort in having company during meals once again. Neil had spent most of his life with his mother beside him in one form or another, and some of his ‘best’ memories (relatively speaking) were the quiet times when they could sit down to eat a meal properly without being rushed or in any fear, when they had enough food for more than a couple of bites.

That he now shared those quiet meals were with Andrew Minyard? Despite everything between them (Mary’s exorcism, having a good idea about Andrew’s past, Stuart paying the man to watch over him)… Neil found himself trusting the other man. Andrew had proven reliable, had kept his word (so far), and was careful in regards to Neil’s talent. It had been a little awkward between them for a short while because of the whole ‘consent’ thing, but they seemed to have moved past it.

“We still on for shopping tonight?” Neil asked after a sip of tea.

Andrew gave him a bored look that was belied by the way that his plate was already halfway empty. “I don’t know, thought I might try letting you starve yourself again, see if that makes you less annoying.” When Neil held up two fingers in response, Andrew clicked his tongue and nodded. “I suppose, if only so the damn furball has some food.”

“Such a humanitarian.” Neil rolled his eyes as he continued with his meal.

“That’s what they all say.”

Despite himself, Neil’s lips twitched upward in a smile during the rest of his breakfast, even when Andrew got up to finish off the rest of the beans, though he sighed when his friend searched the cabinets as he soaked their dishes and found the newly arrived stash of chocolate. One bar was already eaten and another one started by the time Neil returned from the bathroom, where he’d brushed his teeth and finished getting ready for the day.

“I truly don’t understand how you’re not in a diabetic coma by now,” he stated as he gave King one last pet before they left for work.

“I need the energy to put up with idiot freaks all day,” Andrew told him as they went out into the hallway, and so earned another rude gesture.

“I’m telling you right now, when all the ice cream kicks in and you finally have a heart attack, I’m going to conveniently forget that I know CPR.”

“And if I come back as a ghost?” Andrew asked as he leaned against the inside of the elevator.

Neil smiled while he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Hmm, well….” He held up his right hand and waggled his fingers, the ones which bore iron rings. “Funny how one always remembers certain things.”

Andrew clicked his tongue in obvious disgust and pretended to ignore him the entire way to work, which kept a faint smile on Neil’s face – well, except for when he spotted a ghost by the one intersection (it looked as if there’d been a bad accident there recently).

Matt waylaid him as soon as they entered the breakroom, something about him stopping by the gym to ‘referee’ a basketball game between Matt’s team and Jeremy’s, but he begged off since he did have a busy agenda that day. His coworker appeared crestfallen at the denial, so much so that Neil sighed and promised to do it another day, which made Matt grin and pump his fist in the air.

Neil swore he heard Andrew mutter ‘love-sick moron’ before leaving the room, but couldn’t be certain.

He was working on revamping the Spanish/English language proficiency exam for some of the younger children when Renee stopped by bearing two mugs of tea and a small gift bag. He groaned a little as he sat back in his chair. "Not more cat toys." Not only had all of his coworkers banded together to name the kitten, but now they kept 'giving' (more like inflicting upon) him toys for King.

"Sorry, but Allison saw them last night while we were out and couldn't resist," Renee said as she set the bag and one of the mugs down on his desk. "I guess you're lucky she's so busy with the auction that she can't stop by to play with King."

"I suppose," Neil sighed as he braced himself to touch the bag and check its contents; Renee had done a good job of touching it as little as possible with her bare skin, so he only picked up a slight sense of happiness and affection from her, along with flashes of Allison and her in some sort of store. There were more images from Allison when he touched the furry mice and feather-covered birds which King would tear to pieces with abandon, along with the woman's delight at purchasing the items.

"How is she?"

"Busy," Renee repeated as she sat down in the chair, her mug held between the palms of her hands. "But happy as well, since she loves working on projects like this."

Neil nodded in agreement; whenever he saw her during their sessions with Camila, Allison did appear content, if a bit tired. "She said that people are donating stuff?"

"Yes, a lot, really." Renee smiled with satisfaction before she sipped her tea, which prompted Neil to do the same with his own - it was a spicy apple and cinnamon blend. "Seth did a great job in creating a website which most of us have shared on our media accounts, so we've got stuff coming in from all over. People tend to be generous when children are involved."

"Children and animals," Neil amended with a rueful glance at the gift bag.

"True," Renee agreed with a slight smile.

They drank their tea in quiet for a minute or two; one thing Neil enjoyed about Renee was that she didn't feel the need to talk all the time, much like Andrew and Jean. Then she cleared her throat as she motioned to the gift bag. "King is doing well? Jean said she let him pet her the last time he came over."

"She's doing a bit better with people, yes." Neil found himself smiling as he thought about the kitten. "Maybe in another few months she'll stop swatting at Andrew."

"Oh no! Is it that bad between them?" Renee covered her mouth with her hand as if in dismay, but humor was bright in her dark eyes.

"I think he's too much like another cat in her mind and she's trying to show that she is in fact the king of the domain," he explained. "Of course, Andrew being Andrew, he doesn't care and mostly ignores her." Well, other than to make sure he didn't hurt her by stepping on her or moving something into her, and had even filled the water dish a couple of times when he'd noticed it was running low.

Andrew confused Neil with the way he could be so uncaring about everything one moment and mindful of him and King the next.

"Very likely," Renee agreed. "Still, at least she's found a good home with you after such a rough start, which is why she’s so attached to you."

"Well...." Neil nibbled on his bottom lip as he debated if he should or shouldn't reveal what he'd done, then figured ‘why not’ when she already knew about his abilities. "It... it helps, a bit, my talent. I mean, at least there's something I can do that's not all bad."

When Renee simply gazed at him, he sighed and held up his right hand after he set down the mug. "What I... it's hard to explain, maybe?  But sometimes, I can... push back emotions instead of just sensing them." Had that come out right?

Renee continued to stare evenly at him for a couple of seconds before nodding. "You can share your emotions with others?"

"Something like that, and it takes a lot of energy." He grimaced, the expression turning into a rueful grin as he waggled his fingers - a grin which Renee shared since she, as a fellow 'freak', was familiar with how exhausting a talent could be. "It doesn't always have to be mine. Often... often I'd amplify whatever would be the most damaging, mine or theirs or what’s around us." He shuddered as he remembered using the talent in the past against the people his father had sent against him and his mother to buy them enough time to escape.

"You did it while with your mother," Renee stated, as always perceptive enough to make him uncomfortable. "I imagine it’s invaluable as a means of defense."

"As long as someone's there to drag you away from the danger when you're done," Neil admitted with a wry smile. "But sometimes I can use it for smaller, more pleasant things as well, like sharing memories or simple emotions." He'd done it with his mother when he'd needed to pass on information quickly or quietly, or to make animals trust them. "It's how I calmed down King when I found her."

"Ah." Renee appeared to think about something while she sipped her tea, her gaze unfocused. "Can you... can you show me? I know our talents aren't quite the same, but... but something tells me this is important."

"Hmm?" Neil pondered that for a couple of seconds, his teeth once more gnawing on his bottom lip, before he gave a slight shrug. "Okay." He paused again as he considered how to go about the request. "Ah, let me... I think just sending you something simple will work?"

"Yes, that'll be fine." Renee set her mug down on his desk before she extended her right hand toward him. "Whenever you're ready."

Wonderful. A bit surprised that he was doing this, Neil took a deep breath before he closed his eyes and concentrated on a single memory - of him holding a sleeping King in his lap - and the contentment he felt at that. When he felt certain of both, he reached out for Renee's hand and, upon contact, _pushed_ with his talent before any of her emotions or memories could ‘sink’ in.

There was a loud gasp and... and _something_ , something electric yet cold wherever their skin touched, something foreign yet familiar which made him jerk his hand away and open his eyes even as he felt a familiar lethargy overcome him (dammit, he hadn't thought he'd used that much energy). As he slumped down in his chair, cold and drained from using his talent, Renee shuddered, her eyes wide and pupils blown, then smiled, her expression oddly angelic.

"Oh... oh _wow_ ," she breathed out, voice as thin as gossamer. "That's...." Her hands lifted to dance through the air, the motion slow as if they moved through invisible molasses, which indicated that she'd been affected, too, by the use of talent. "It's still a bit jumbled, but I get it now."

How nice that someone did, Neil thought as he reached for the mug with trembling hands. "Good." The word came out a bit slurred due to his exhaustion.

"Yeah." Renee slumped down as well and closed her eyes. "I'm... I'm just gonna sit here a while."

They both were quiet for what had to be a couple of minutes when Andrew, after a cursory knock on the door, entered the office without waiting for an answer or acknowledgement; he took a few steps forward then stopped with a slight frown on his face as he took in their slumped appearances. "What did you two freaks do now?" What a surprise, he didn’t sound pleased.

"Hello Andrew," Renee said, her voice quiet with exhaustion. "How are you?"

"Tired of dealing with your freaky shit," he said with blatant annoyance. "What. Did. You. Do?" he enunciated as if they were idiots as his left hand felt along his chest (probably for the warded cross he wore beneath his black shirt).

Renee's thick brows drew together while Neil contemplated if he had enough energy to throw his empty mug at the bastard (he didn't, sadly). "Neil showed me a very helpful, 'freaky' thing to do, I suppose you would say."

Andrew considered that for a couple of seconds before he huffed once. "Are you going to be able to stand up at all today?"

"Hmm." Renee exchanged a look with Neil, who wavered his left hand about a couple of times in the air. "Maybe in a little bit."

"Idiot freaks always passing out on me," Andrew muttered without any heat as he turned around and left the office; Neil truly did regret being unable to throw the mug as he glared at the bastard's back.

"He's always so grumpy when he's worried about you," Renee insisted, which earned her an incredulous look. "Honest. The more worried, the grumpier he gets."

Neil suspected that he'd broken something in the woman when he'd shown her the trick earlier.

Renee was telling him about some of the items that had been donated for the auction when Andrew returned bearing two mugs and a box of pastries, which were set down on Neil's desk. "Eat something," he ordered as he fixed Neil with a stern look. "I'm not carrying your foolish ass home."

"But-"

" _Eat_." Andrew's hazel eyes narrowed as he flipped open the box and nudged it closer to Neil. "Now."

Scowling at the man's high-handed attitude, Neil only gave in because he needed something to help him get through the rest of the work day, _not_ because Andrew ordered him to do so, dammit. He perked up a little when he saw croissants and selected one, while Renee had a blueberry muffin. The tea, sweetened with a _lot_ of honey, nearly made him gag, but he forced himself to drink it.

All the while, Andrew leaned against the edge of the desk and stared him down as if daring him not to finish everything. When Neil was halfway through his impromptu meal, Andrew clicked his tongue and grabbed a croissant as well to eat.

“Oh, that helped a lot,” Renee proclaimed once she was done with her muffin and tea. “Thank you.” She smiled at Andrew as she slowly rose to her feet, the motion a little wobbly at first.

“If I find you face down in the hallway, I’m going to leave you there for the cleaning staff to deal with,” Andrew remarked with a faint sneer as he brushed aside the flaky crumbs which had fallen onto his black jeans; all Renee did was hum as if amused and give him a slight smile before she left Neil’s office.

“She’s obviously terrified,” Neil said as he leaned back in his chair, a slight grimace on his face from the lingering taste of sweetness in his mouth.

“No comments from someone who doesn’t have the sense to not pass out at work,” Andrew shot back as he used a napkin he’d brought along to ‘smack’ the top of Neil’s head, then crumpled it up into a ball to be thrown into the trash bin. “What was so important that you had to show her here, hmm? And not someplace where you two could pass out without inconveniencing me?”

Neil debated answering the question… but since Andrew had helped by fetching him (and Renee) something right then, he supposed an answer was owed – that and if Renee felt that he should teach her the ‘trick’, that Andrew should have some sort of warning. “Ah, well, it’s something I’ve done in the past to… it takes people down,” he tried to explain as he wiggled his right fingers. “I sorta overwhelm them with emotions or painful memories, and I suspect that Renee figured out a way to do it with visions or past memories.”

“Huh.” A slight frown settled on Andrew’s handsome face as he considered that. “Surprised you never turned it on me.”

“Hmm.” Neil slipped his hands into the opposite sleeves of his lightweight sweater then hugged his arms close to his chest. “Well, it’s more of a last resort sort of thing, because like most things associated with my talent, it has a price.” He gave Andrew a self-depreciating smile as he slumped down a little more in the chair. “I’m not any use afterwards, much like when I touch a poltergeist, so I only used it when my mum and I were really desperate.” His expression turned sad when he thought about those years on the run, when the two of them had been cornered by one of his father’s people or someone who’d found out about their talent and they couldn’t risk using more conventional weapons. “Back then, she’d been around to drag me somewhere safe, afterwards.”

Andrew scoffed as he reached for another pastry. “What good are you if you can’t even take someone out without falling flat on your face?”

Neil gave the bastard an echo of his father’s smile as he slipped his right hand free and pretended to reach out. “Come on, give me your hand for a moment and we’ll see what you think, okay?”

There was that slight sneer again. “I bet I’ll be back on my feet before a freak like you.”

“And I bet you won’t – the trick’s worth the inconvenience,” Neil swore as he remembered dealing with his stressed mother, with her rough hands and cruel words, her panic and fear bleeding into him with each touch until he recovered. “I’ll just call Jean to take me home and leave you drooling here for the next couple of weeks. _If_ you recover.”

“Huh.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he considered that for a minute while he ate some sort of pastry. “And you taught it to _Renee_? _Wonderful_.”

It was something along the lines of giving a very sharp sword to a skilled fighter – a bit of an overkill, all in all. “She doesn’t seem the type to pick a fight without her reasons, and… well, there’s her talent,” Neil argued. “I figured if she wanted to know it, it probably was for the best.”

“You freaks and your talents,” Andrew muttered as he seemed to pointedly look away from Neil for some reason. “Have to make things so complicated.”

“Maybe it’s you norms who do that.”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he gathered up the box of pastries. “I think you scrambled what little brains you have left. Don’t pass out doing anymore stupid shit today or I’ll sign your name to Kevin’s latest attempt at a sport’s team.”

Somehow, Neil found the strength to make a rude gesture before the bastard left his office.

*******

Andrew walked into the break room to find Neil surrounded by a group of people and for once, appeared all right with the situation; it probably helped that Jean and Renee were near him and acted as a buffer of sorts with the rest of the Foxes.

“So we’ll meet here at eleven?” Matt said with an excited expression on his face. “I’ll bring the donuts!”

Neil sighed as he rubbed his mostly cloth-covered hand along the back of his neck. “Aren’t you sick of eating them by now?”

Several of the Foxes laughed while Renee smiled and Moreau shook his head. “Aw, some of us run around all day, we need the energy to keep up with the kids!” Matt tried to explain while Knox nodded. “I’ll get some of those dense triangle things you like.”

“Scones,” Renee said as she turned her smile toward Neil. “I’ll bring some fresh fruit and bottles of flavored water, okay?”

“Ah, how about Erik and I stop and grab a couple sandwich rings and coffee?” Nicky volunteered, never one to be left out. “We’ll have enough food and drinks to power us through everything in a few hours!”

“Just remember that we’re here to do the job right,” Moreau reminded Andrew’s cousin with an offended sniff. “It’s not a party.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nicky rolled his eyes while he flapped his right hand about in a dismissive manner. “We can have fun and do a good job, we’re talented like that.”

For some reason, Moreau didn’t appear convinced of that fact while Knox bit back on a laugh. “We’ll be by the apartment a little after ten, how does that sound? Time enough to meet King?” He appeared hopeful while he spoke to Neil, who considered the offer for a moment before he nodded.

Matt overheard and took to whining right away. “Aw, I wanna meet King, too! How about-“

“Too many guests over at once isn’t a good idea,” Renee said in a rush as she gave the disappointed man a consoling pat on the left arm. “King’s still getting used to people, you wouldn’t want to upset her, would you? Besides, Robin and I will need your help unloading supplies.”

“I guess,” Matt mumbled, then made Knox promise to take lots of pics – of both the damn furball _and_ Neil.

Andrew felt annoyed for some reason (even more annoyed than usual) and put it down to the lack of caffeine; Robin came over while he poured himself some. “Such a shame that you’re busy tomorrow.”

He gave a soft grunt in ‘agreement’; oh so sad, that the GS had a long outstanding maintenance appointment. Bee had offered to lend him her car for the day, but he felt twitchy behind the wheel of someone else’s vehicle (and a _Camry_ at that) so would spend the day doing some much-needed chores which had been put off for too long in favor of taking care of a certain freak idiot and a furball.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t already down to help out the night of the auction and a few others to sort through all the shit that kept arriving at the Foxhole, so he saw no need to give up a weekend to help paint the gym in anticipation of the event.

Still, for some reason he felt disgruntled at the thought of Neil wasting a perfectly fine day off with a bunch of other morons. “You going to be all right, dealing with Boyd and the others tomorrow?” he asked as they left work that afternoon. “Dan won’t be there to keep the moron on a tight leash.” She’d be off with Wymack, Kevin and Allison to pick up more donated items.

“I should be fine since Jean will be there, him and Renee.” Neil gave a slight shrug as he tugged on the seatbelt’s strap. “Besides, we’ll be busy painting and cleaning.”

“Try not to inhale too many fumes, you can’t afford to lose any more braincells,” Andrew warned as they pulled into the parking lot of Neil’s apartment building; he refused to acknowledge that warm ‘twinge’ in his chest when Neil attempted to hide a smile behind his left hand.

After dropping off the GS Saturday morning and catching a ride back to his apartment from Bee, he lost himself in giving the place a thorough cleaning and catching up on his laundry, which he’d put off for much too long. For some reason, he tended to waste time at Neil’s place after work instead of coming home, dragging out their grocery shopping or offering to pick up dinner (all on Stuart’s tab, of course) so he could ‘torment’ King while they ate or inflict some new show on Neil which would have the idiot shaking his head in disbelief over the plot.

It saved him from having to deal with Nicky and Erik, he told himself, from being dragged into planning a stupid wedding still a year away.

He found himself staring at the shirt he’d worn the last time King had gone for one of her booster shots and recalled how flustered Neil had been when the vet once more made a comment about him and Andrew being a couple, which for some reason Andrew hadn’t bothered to correct (again).

It had taken a few seconds for Neil to find that razor-sharp tongue if his after he was left stunned, it seemed, and by that point the vet was already gone.

Neil had looked so fucking… _fuckable_ with his cheeks flushed and eyes widened with surprise.

Why the hell was Andrew thinking so much about the man?

Aaron gave him a questioning look when they met up at Eden’s that evening then slid over two shots of whiskey. “Something wrong? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re the one who just pulled a double in the ER and were thrown up on not once, but three times since last evening.”

“Lovely,” Andrew quipped before he tossed back the shots in quick succession while Nicky made a slight gagging noise and Kevin grimaced. “Can we move on to abscesses now?”

“No, _no_ ,” Nicky said in a rush as he snatched up some flavored shot. “No more talk like that, okay? I don’t want to hear about body fluids unless they’re the _fun_ kind.” He wrinkled his nose before he had the shot. “You want me to tell you what Erik and I did-“

“ **No**.” Now it was Aaron’s turn to grimace. “Fuck, I’m not drunk enough for this shit yet.”

Andrew agreed and had another shot – he had to smack Kevin’s hand aside to grab a glass of whiskey.

“So what has you looking even grumpier than usual?” Nicky asked after he set an empty glass down on the table. “Over-polish a knife or something?” He rolled his eyes when Andrew gave him the finger. “You should have joined us today.” He grew excited as he pulled out his phone and started swiping along its screen. “Matt and Jeremy got into a contest to see who could paint a wall the fastest and ended up covered in paint, while Neil spent most of his time up on a ladder since he’s small and _very_ flexible.” That last remark provoked a pleased smile and hum from the pervert as he seemed to search for pictures. “Which, may I tell you, was a wonderful thing because of the view. I may have spent half the day making sure that darling boy’s ladder was stable, you know,” Nicky stated with a leer.

Andrew made to throw an empty shot glass at the pervert, but Aaron snatched it away in time while Nicky yelped. “What? Like you wouldn’t have checked out the goods, too?”

“Nicky, shut up for once,” Aaron pleaded while he rubbed his head and Andrew thought dark thoughts about their cousin. “I’m too tired to put up with this shit.”

“You were supposed to be working,” Kevin chastised even as he craned his neck to get a good look at what was on the screen of Nicky’s phone. “If I’d known you would have been slacking off all day, I’d would’ve switched places and had you help pick up stuff instead.”

“I can work and appreciate at the same time,” Nicky complained while he held up his phone to show the picture to Kevin – at least until Andrew kicked Kevin’s ankle and provoked a bark of pain. “Come on, you get to ogle him all the time, yet we can’t?” That was directed his way.

“I don’t ‘ogle’ him,” Andrew managed to say without being physically ill as he wondered where all the alcohol had gone.

“Right,” Nicky scoffed, while even Kevin and Aaron seemed to agree with him. “You just stare after him all the time and hover around him all day and drive him home and-“ he let out a loud yelp when Andrew scooted down enough to kick him in the shin. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“Shut up,” Andrew told his cousin. “I don’t want to talk about Neil anymore tonight.”

“But-“ Nicky yelped again when Andrew threw an empty shot glass at him (and barely ducked in time) then glared. “Fine! Be a li- ah, be a bitch if you want.”

“You know he will,” Aaron snarked as he gave Andrew a narrow look. “So, another around?”

“Yes,” Andrew forced out past a clenched jaw while Kevin glanced around the table in an uncomfortable manner, only to settle when Andrew left to fetch the drinks.

The crowd at the bar annoyed him, a press of people eager to drink and get off in one manner or another; he felt the urge to lash out, to shove elbows (or worse) into their flesh to make them move away, to give him room (respect) and had to work through a mental exercise Bee taught him _years_ ago to control his temper. Roland finally got around to him when Andrew repeated it for the sixth time, a knowing smirk on his face which almost made Andrew turn down the invite to meet up in the storeroom later that night.

Almost.

For some reason, Nicky and Aaron were quick to go through the second round of drinks and hustle off to the dance floor once he returned to the table, while Kevin was reluctant to leave in search of a fuckbuddy for the night. Instead, he hung around and talked about the auction, about how hard Wymack and Allison were working, about his stupid sports teams and how a couple of kids had promise and might get scholarships and-

Andrew all but fled to the storeroom when it was time.

Except once he was away from Kevin and his stupid rambling… he wasn’t that eager to have any ‘fun’, really. Here he was, about to engage in oral sex or frottage with an attractive man who understood boundaries, to undergo sexual release and experience a rush of endorphins to leave him relaxed and (possibly) in a good mood and… _nothing_.

Perhaps he’d relied on Roland for too long and it was time to shake things up, to hook up with another ‘fuckbuddy’. Maybe go out of town for a weekend and see if Pete or someone else were available… but not even that idea held any attraction for some reason.

He needed more alcohol.

Roland was already in the back room, leaning against the one wall as if strategically posed to show off his muscular thighs and chest. “Hey you,” he called out while he flexed his pecs (oh yes, definitely staged). “Ready for some fun,” Roland asked with what was probably meant to be a saucy wink while trailing his hand down his chest to his half-tumescent crotch, which he gave a languid squeeze.

Andrew gazed at the man for several seconds, during which he still felt no interest yet found himself filled with a ridiculous urge to be at a deceitful freak’s apartment demanding some weird toast and egg dish with beans, then spun around on his left heel so he could leave without saying a word.

Once back at the table, he sent Kevin off for more alcohol, and proceeded to drink just enough to give himself a buzz but allow him to drive home without too much trouble.

Sunday found Andrew unwilling to get out of bed except for the most basic of necessities, his body buried beneath blankets from the nose downward as he contemplated just how his life had gone off the rails. Oh, it had never been the most stable of things in the first place, to be honest, not after a childhood in the foster system, not after all of _them_ , after _Drake_ , but Bee had done the best she could to patch his shattered pieces together into some semblance of a semi-functional human being, had given him a family of sorts with Aaron and Nicky (beggars couldn't be choosy), and so he'd muddled through high school and university, had found a career that provided some sort of reward.

He got up almost every day despite the nightmares and the terrible lows, put on his clothes and went to work, did his best to help kids in similar situations to what he'd been in, and... well, kept existing. He was there for his family, for most of the dinners and Nicky's stupid events, for brunches with Bee and coffees with Aaron. He was there for the 'boys' nights out', even if half the time it was just to make sure that his family got home safe and sound.

(And half the time to deal with some basic urges in a way that didn't make his skin crawl or the nightmares any worse.)

So much effort to be _almost_ normal, to find a life that 'worked' for him, that kept the jagged edges mostly smoothed down, the filled joints soldered together without undo stress - and then one Neil Josten showed up and it all threatened to come undone. Emotions which Andrew swore he'd excised from himself long ago (after _Cass_ ), that he'd forbidden from ever taking root, even, sprouted from the cracks in those broken seams like insidious weeds. Try as he might to stamp them out, they returned even stronger each time the damn freak smiled or - even worse - uttered a rare laugh.

It was when he lay there contemplating ways to dispose of Renee's body after he dealt his supposed 'friend' a sufficiently gruesome death for not warning him about the horror Neil would inflict upon his life that a new set of texts came through his phone; at first he ignored them, much like he'd done the previous ones and all calls so far that day, but the phone kept pinging again and _again_ , so he sighed as he reached for the damn device (the first time he'd moved in what felt like forever) and blinked when he noticed they were from Bee - a Bee who was apparently out in the parking lot. For a moment he debated ignoring her... but it was Bee.

Grumbling beneath his breath about having to leave his sanctuary, he sent 'ok' then forced himself out of bed to go to the bathroom, where he brushed his teeth then pulled on a robe before he stumbled toward the door.

At least Bee knew well enough to show up with a large box of donuts, which she handed over after eyeing him up and down. “I’ll put the coffee on,” she said without judgement. “Sit down.”

He was already on his way to the table and munched on a cream-filled donut while she not only set a pot of coffee to brewing but started on what appeared to be cheese and pepper filled omelets as well.

They both were quiet until she set a mug of sweetened coffee and the omelet down in front of him. “Aaron said you appeared ‘off’ last night, and then you didn’t answer your phone this morning,” she explained. “Bad weekend?”

“Something like that,” he said after he washed down a mouthful of sugary carbs with the coffee. Because it was _Bee_ , he sighed and expanded on that answer. “I’m… trying to figure some things out.”

“Okay.” She had some coffee as well, and a bite of her own omelet before she continued. “Something to do with work or Aaron’s wedding?”

“Not really.” When she gave him a steady gaze for that answer, he sighed as he used his fork to break up the omelet into little pieces. “While I think Aaron might be rushing things and shouldn’t marry the first person he’s been seriously involved with, I don’t have an issue with his wedding.” At Bee’s faint scoff, he scowled. “ _Much_ of an issue with his wedding, okay? He’s happy, which is… well, that’s what matters the most.”

“Yes, he is indeed happy and I can understand your concerns. If I didn’t know Aaron, how mature both he and Katelyn are and the depth of their feelings for each other, I’d be worried, too. But they’re not really that young and they’ve been together for a long time.” Bee rolled her eyes when Andrew made a yawning motion. “And we’ve been over this dozens of times already, as well as I believe you when you say it’s not the issue. So what is bothering you, hmm?”

Andrew bought some time for himself by having several bites of the omelet; he knew he could tell his foster mother to drop the matter and she would leave it alone, but… but first he’d refused to believe it could happen and then he’d done his best to deny it, and neither of those had worked out very well, had they?

“I need something to drink,” he muttered as he pushed away from the table and lurched toward the one cabinet which contained the alcohol, where he snatched up a bottle of whiskey so he could add some to his coffee; Bee watched on with bemusement which turned to concern when he didn’t stop pouring until the liquid almost overflowed his mug.

“That’s… not a good sign,” she said as she pushed aside her half-finished omelet to grab a chocolate-covered donut. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not good,” Andrew confirmed before he carefully lifted the mug and drained about a fourth of its contents. “I, uhm, I think I’m obsessing over someone,” he finally admitted as the whiskey-enhanced coffee burned its way down his throat and settled in his stomach.

“Oh.” Bee seemed to consider that as she chewed on some pastry. “It’s about Neil, isn’t it?”

Andrew gazed at her for a few seconds before he drained about half of the remaining spiked coffee. “It’s _that_ obvious?” Dammit.

“Well, he _is_ attractive,” Bee pointed out with a slight tilt of her head. “And you’re spending a lot of time with him, lately. Your body language around him is very protective, almost possessive, and you’re always watching him.”

“ _That_? That’s not creepy at all, when you do that shit,” Andrew reminded his mother before he finished the last of the coffee and poured straight whiskey into the mug; only Bee’s disapproving look kept him from filling the mug entirely.

“Says the young man who enjoys intimidating people with emotionless stares and vague threats,” Bee shot back as she wiped her hands clean with a napkin.

“I am _rarely_ vague when it comes to threats,” Andrew enunciated slowly while he held the mug near his chin. “It’s better to let people know just how painful their encroaching death or dismemberment will be so we’re both clear on things.”

“I am so proud right now,” Bee sighed as she reached for the whiskey. “However, we’re not here to discuss how I’m going to explain your bloody rampage when it comes time to renew my license, but you and your crush.”

“It’s not a crush, it’s an _obsession_ , and you won’t have to explain things because they’ll never find the bodies, I’m not an amateur,” Andrew scoffed. “Give me some credit.”

“I feel _so_ much better now, and I think it’s a crush.” She poured a good double-shot of whiskey for herself while staring him down until he clicked his tongue in response. “Or perhaps infatuation. I think you’re using ‘obsession’ here because while it can indicate passion and romantic emotion, it can also imply compulsion and fixation in a more platonic sense as well, which is a way for you to negate any… emotional entanglements you may feel toward Neil.”

“’Emotional entanglements’,” Andrew huffed before he gulped down most of the whiskey in his mug. “I hate him.” Why couldn’t that be true?

“Hmm, see, there you go again.” As always, Bee saw through his bullshit. “Why are you doing this to yourself? From what I can tell, he’s an intelligent, attractive and talented young man.”

Oh, she didn’t know half of the ‘talented’ part. “An intelligent, attractive and talented young man who lies through his teeth half the time and isn’t interested in sex,” Andrew clarified.

“Ah.” Bee sipped her own spiked drink for a few seconds, her brow furrowed as she took that into consideration. “I’ve never caught him out in a lie.”

“Trust me, he’s hiding a lot.” So much that Andrew lay awake some nights trying to put the pieces together, the rare bits of truth Neil and Stuart had parceled out, and uncover who exactly Neil Josten was behind the scars and dye and fake contacts. Who he was running from, as well.

Bee merely shrugged at that bit of news. “Aren’t we all?” She gave a pointed look at the long sleeves of his robe, which covered his scarred forearms – the stretch of skin he usually hid behind armbands and dark material. “You’re not exactly forthcoming about a lot of things, either.”

“Ha, ha.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “There’s still the fact that he doesn’t care for sex.”

“Some people don’t. Is it mandatory for a relationship?” she asked as she closed the lid on the box of donuts.

It was a good thing he wasn’t drinking or eating right then, because he nearly choked on his own spit as it was. “Who said anything about a relationship?” he asked as he slumped down in the chair. “I want these foul… _things_ ,” he motioned to his chest, “gone.”

“Why is it never simple with you?” Bee murmured as she picked up the bottle of whiskey, only to set it back down a moment later with a slight shake of her head. “Look, you’re an adult and can make your own decisions, but I think it’s very important that you’re having those ‘things’ for another person. Why can’t you pursue them?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

Maybe because Neil was a lying freak who sensed emotions and memories when he touched someone? Because he thought sex was a terrible thing thanks to his psycho mother forcing memories of her own rapes onto him? Because Andrew was just as fucked up as Neil in his own way? “Because nothing good is going to come from it,” he told her while his hands clenched into fists.

Bee let out a weary sigh as she pushed the empty mug aside. “Andrew… I imagine it can be frightening, can feel as if you’re losing control to experience attraction and… and perhaps more for another person, and for someone as reserved as Neil at that. But in my experience, it won’t do you any good to bottle them up or deny them, as repression only makes things worse in the long run. My advice is to acknowledge them because even if you fail, you’ve experienced some important growth.”

He cast a longing glance at the bottle across the table before he graced his mother with a sour look. “I’m not a damn tree. ‘Growth’ isn’t exactly a main goal of mine,” he gave a quick gesture in his general direction, “if you haven’t noticed by now.”

“You know, if you put as much effort into getting along with people as you do being a sarcastic little shit, then we’d be preparing for your wedding as well,” Bee muttered as she opened the box for another donut.

To think that Andrew had gotten out of bed for this.

As if realizing that his patience was wearing thin, Bee switched the topic to Aaron’s wedding (which wasn’t that much better than Andrew’s detested emotions for a certain lying freak); they spent the next half an hour talking about how Aaron and Katelyn were about to stage an intervention on Nicky to make him back off with all of the ‘helpful’ plans and advice he kept pushing on them.

Before she left, Bee suggested that Andrew order some takeout and take a hot shower, little things to make him feel better, before she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know, I only see Neil relax around you and Jean, and it’s obvious that Jean is involved with Jeremy. He looks for you when you’re not there and this tension leaves him when you show up. That’s an important sign.”

“Yes, that he’s an idiot who doesn’t know better,” Andrew argued before he opened the front door.

“He’s not the only one,” Bee muttered before she left.

He grabbed the remaining donuts and returned to bed, determined to remain there for the rest of the day.

Monday found him back at Neil’s apartment, where he opened the door and discovered the idiot laid out on the floor with King on top of him swatting at his face. Andrew took in the sight of Neil’s long, lean legs sprawled out on display, the pale grey, long-sleeved shirt somewhat rucked up to his hips, the ridiculous smile on that ridiculous face and the quiet laughter filling the room as King appeared determined to attack her owner’s nose (or perhaps the overlong bangs falling down around it).

Something clenched so _damn_ hard inside of Andrew’s chest that he wavered on his feet for a couple of seconds, and right before he could spin around and leave, Neil called out his name and sat up with King held cradled against his chest.

“Hey, you all right? You eat something today?”

Andrew shrugged rather than admit that he’d had a sugary energy bar with his coffee, and trailed along when Neil, still carrying King, went into the kitchen. He was quiet while Neil (after setting the damn furball down and washing his hands), made him an egg sandwich to eat, his chest filled with a warm, tingling sensation at the way the young man had fussed over him.

Renee was wrong, was _so wrong_ – there was nothing between him and Neil other than a nice, weekly deposit in Andrew’s checking account.

Neil slanted Andrew a few worried glances but didn’t say anything else on the way into work, where he was distracted first by Matt chatting his ear off once they reached the breakroom and then later on, when Laila showed up to talk about the court case for Peter’s father; for some reason, Neil didn’t appear too happy about being a witness for the prosecutor. Andrew supposed it was another instance of the freak’s talent making things uncomfortable for him, and wondered if he’d have to drag Neil back to the apartment that day or something.

He should be more annoyed by that prospect than he was.

“What, afraid of swearing to tell the truth?” he asked once they were alone.

Neil was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze distant (Andrew truly hated the contacts now that he knew the real color of the man’s eyes) before a self-depreciating smile curled his lips. “ _I have to admit, it doesn’t come naturally to me_ ,” he said in German. “ _And with my background_ ….” He gave a slight shrug as he hinted about his family. “ _Being in a court of law is uncomfortable on many levels, but the main thing is that they’re places of strong emotion, of people under stress and often the verdicts aren’t in their favor. I fear I’m not going to be at my best that day_.”

Andrew surprised himself by stepping closer to Neil and almost reaching out to him. “Is there… I’ll be there,” he said. “Focus on me and do what you need to see that Peter’s bastard father is put away, got it.”

Neil was still for a couple of seconds before a slight smile (a stronger smile) settled on his lips (deepened the full bottom one). “Yeah, I got it. Just be prepared to carry me back home.”

“I’m _dragging_ your ass back home,” Andrew said with a slight sneer. “By your lousy hair.” He dared to finish reaching out and gave a flick to Neil’s outrageously overgrown bangs (what was his real hair color?).

“You can try,” Neil taunted with renewed vigor. “Uhm, shopping tonight?”

“I suppose, at least to keep your uncle from whining.” Andrew rolled his eyes as he pulled away. “Speaking of which, any new care packages lately?”

The question prompted an exasperated sigh from Neil as they resumed walking down the hallway. “Yes, one came yesterday.” He frowned a little as he tugged on his bangs. “I meant to mention it this morning, but…”

Yeah, except Andrew had been a little ‘out of it’. Funny, but he felt better now for some reason. “I’ll grab my stuff later.”

“Your stuff,” Neil muttered as he made a rude gesture Andrew’s way before he slipped into his office, what was probably Russian obscenities beneath his breath the entire while.

Dammit, Andrew shouldn’t feel such warmth in his chest over that fact. He made sure to give Renee a narrow look whenever their paths crossed the rest of the day, and felt even more irate when she merely smiled at him in return.

He felt especially irate when he noticed the way that Neil sat all relaxed in the passenger seat of the GS on the way to the grocery store, unlike the way he’d been weeks ago when they’d started their little ‘food runs’. They still didn’t talk much on the drive, but Neil’s lean body wasn’t stiff with tension and Andrew didn’t feel self-conscious as he drove or smoked a cigarette (unlike most people he knew, Neil never complained when he lit up in the car); the silence was comfortable now, was the two of them riding together rather than _forced_ into the situation.

Well, other than a time or two when Neil would tense and advert his eyes. “Ghost?” Andrew would ask, especially if he noticed the remnants of an accident or a disabled car left on the side of the road and feel a flash of heat from Renee’s cross.

“Yeah.” Neil rubbed at his eyes a couple of times while he shrugged. “Most times it takes them a few days to dissipate. Car accidents are traumatic and tend to be sudden, especially if it results in death on the scene, so it’s more a case of they’re… well, it’s like they’re jolted out of things and takes them a little while to realize they need to move on.”

“And if not?” Andrew asked, curious despite himself.

Neil’s smile was a touch on the grim side. “I don’t tend to often find myself in the middle of an intersection, so it’s not my problem.”

He clicked his tongue in a fake show of reproach. “Not very charitable of you.”

“Renee can do something about it.” Neil flicked his right fingers through the air. “You going to carry me around as I pass out from taking care of all of them?”

Andrew snorted to show what he thought about it, and refused to acknowledge the tingle of warmth that Neil’s answering grin provoked.

Maybe he should look into having Bee commit him or something – that would be one way to get around these awful _things_.

Once the car was parked, he grabbed a grocery cart and they entered the store, which appeared a bit busy for a Monday afternoon; Neil hovered closer than usual because of all the people bustling about inside. “You going to surprise me and get something other than ramen and oranges?” Andrew asked as they headed toward the produce section.

“Ha, ha.” Neil frowned (which might have been as much for Andrew’s ‘joke’ as what appeared to be a harried mother with two kids walking by a little too close). “I’ve been eating much better lately and following Allison’s meal plan somewhat.”

‘Somewhat’; Neil had started adding more items to his side of the shopping cart, such as carbs other than cheap bread and ramen and even some fish (which King enjoyed), though he worried about the price of those items way too much considering that Stuart still paid for everything. Andrew surmised that Neil had grown up pinching pennies and eating things that were easy and quick to prepare, even if he rarely objected to anything that Allison put before him (other than a lot of vegetables or anything the man deemed ‘too sweet’ – which were most things). Despite his lean appearance, he _did_ eat, too, he just burned off more calories than most people thanks to his freakish powers (which explained why Renee baked so damn much).

“What do you know, idiots can learn,” Andrew teased while Neil began to inspect the green apples, the sleeves of his dark grey t-shirt pulled as far over his hands as possible so only the bare tips of his fingers were exposed.

“Again, very funny.” Neil glanced at him through thick lashes, which made Andrew want to ask why the hell he bothered with the fake lenses, why he didn’t go with his natural eye color when they both knew what it was (why he felt the need to cover up the striking pale blue). “Maybe you should have Allison to do a diet plan for you, too, see if eating something other than kilos of sugar a day and a bunch of processed foods can help with that awful personality of yours.”

“I know not of what you speak, I’m sheer perfection,” Andrew insisted as he picked up an apple to toss back and forth while he waited for Neil to move on to another fruit – oranges that day, or something else? Strawberries maybe? Grapes? Apricots?

Neil was headed over to the strawberries when his steps faltered, which nearly caused Andrew to ram the cart into his back. When Andrew went to bitch about that, he noticed how Neil’s eyes were wide with what appeared to be shock and his face drained of color as he stared off in the distance, as his body began to shake as his arms wrapped around his chest.

“Neil?” Was it a ghost? A poltergeist? Andrew glanced around while he pressed his left hand to his chest (against the damn cross), but he didn’t feel the flash of heat which warned of a ghost’s presence or see anything ‘weird’ – there were just a bunch of people shopping, a couple of them turning to stare at him and Neil.

“Neil? _What the hell is it_?” he asked in German just as Neil let out a faint moan and all but fell down, knees bent and body hunched over as if to make himself small, to present as tiny a target as possible while whispering in rapid French.

What the fuck? Shoving the cart aside (and ignoring someone who yelped in surprise as it hit their own), Andrew crouched down next to his- to Neil as people began to gather around then. “Neil. **Neil**! _What is it? What did you see_?” When that didn’t work, he ground his teeth together and dared to reach out cup his right hand around the back of Neil’s neck.

That managed to startle the freak out of… _whatever_ , to make Neil gasp and look at him, eyes still wide with shock and terror. “An… Andrew?” He seemed surprised and confused right then as he glanced back and forth between Andrew and the area around the green produce.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” They could shop another time, whenever Neil wasn’t breaking down.

For once, Neil didn’t argue, he merely allowed Andrew to grasp the left sleeve of his shirt and pull him from the store, past the people gawking at them. Once in the car, Neil curled up in on himself, quiet and still appearing in shock, but he didn’t seem to be drained so Andrew didn’t think that he’d used his power back in the store.

So something else had set him off, and Andrew wanted to know what it was. He _was_ going to find out.

Nothing was said until they were in Neil’s apartment, with Neil tucked into the one chair with the blue blanket draped over him and Andrew off to make a pot of tea and feed King; the damn cat had hovered around Neil until she realized that Andrew was the one dumping shit in her food bowl that evening.

He was half-tempted to just microwave the water to boil it, eager to get back to Neil and find out what the hell was going on… but he’d spent enough time with the tea-loving freak to not want an earful about ‘proper’ brewing techniques so put the kettle on instead. While he waited for it to heat up, he texted Renee to ask if she’d ‘seen’ some weird shit or not, and somehow wasn’t surprised when there was no immediate response.

King scarfed her food down then went to curl up with Neil, leaving Andrew to search the cabinets for whatever Stuart had sent with the latest care package (more beans and chocolates, and some chips he’d never seen before but looked interesting) while waiting on the tea. After he placed an order of take-out (sushi), he grabbed a bag of the spicy ‘crisps’ (they were dorito wannabes, no need to call them some stupid name), which were pretty good, then poured the hot water into the waiting mug and took it into the living room.

Neil was half-hidden beneath the blanket with King in his lap, his expression vacant in a manner which indicated that he was lost in thought – or memories. “I’m taking those ‘crisps’ things home,” Andrew informed him as he set the mug down near the chair.

“Okay,” Neil said without any objection, which was a sign that something was _wrong_.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath (and not to fetch the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen), Andrew sat down on the new loveseat he (well, he and Allison) had at least managed to convince Neil to upgrade to from the one chair since he spent more time in the apartment – him and Renee and Jean and Allison. “What happened in the store? What did you see?”

It was quiet in the room save for King’s soft purrs while Neil continued to pet her for several seconds, then he sighed and reached for the mug of tea, a slight grimace on his face when he saw the teabag still steeping in it, which he ignored after a moment and took a sip. “I… I thought I saw someone.”

“Someone? A ghost or a real person?” Andrew should have grabbed something to drink, too, but decided to wait until their dinner arrived at that point rather than interrupt.

“I… she should be dead. I have to be imagining things,” Neil said in a timorous whisper as he held King cradled to his chest with his left arm.

For a moment, Andrew had an awful sense of dread. “You’re not telling me that you saw your mother, did you?” The look of pure derision Neil gave him at that question quickly put his fears to rest that the bitch was back somehow. “Okay, then who is ‘she’?”

Neil had another sip of tea before he set the mug aside and held King with both arms. “She… she’s someone from my past, my childhood.” His expression grew bleak as his gaze once more turned vacant. “But Stuart said she’s dead, that he… she’s supposed to be dead.”

Someone wasn’t being very forthcoming, were they? “Did you or did you not see a ghost today?” Andrew would try forcing direct answers out of the idiot.

“No,” Neil murmured as he buried his face in a purring King’s fur for a couple of seconds. “That wasn’t a ghost back in the store, I know that much.”

“So then, this person’s alive?” Andrew pressed as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left forearm – against the armband beneath the sleeve of his black shirt and felt the welcoming presence of the knife beneath it (oh yes, the iron ring trick worked great against the metal detectors, and he didn’t feel bad for wearing them at work considering that he had one trouble-magnet freak to protect). “I mean, how else can you see them?”

“I… maybe I imagined her?” Neil sounded confused as he rubbed at his eyes. “But she looked so _real_ , looked as if she’d aged a few years and everything but was still _her_.”

“Was _who_?” Andrew demanded as he leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees, his fingers aching to hold a knife in them to lash out at the person who made Neil sound so unnerved, so upset.

So _afraid_.

He didn’t think he was going to get an answer when Neil took to gnawing on his bottom lip and physically drawing in on himself even, and was about to go fetch the whiskey when Neil spoke again.

“She’s… her name’s Lola.” He hugged King once then let her settle on his lap, his gaze distant while he stroked along her back. “Lola Malcolm. She worked for my father, did… well, did a lot of things for him, basically whatever he wanted.” He shuddered at those last words.

Now they were getting somewhere. “I take it that your father, like your mother’s family, was involved in not-quite legal activities,” Andrew surmised.

The smile on Neil’s handsome face right then was too bitter for words. “There was nothing ‘not-quite’ about them.” He shuddered again and closed his eyes. “I found out about my ability – well, the ghost part – because the house was always full of them, the people he killed or had Lola and his men kill.” He drew in a sharp breath as if remembering something painful, and considering what Andrew had just heard? Not a surprise. “It was rare when there weren’t any ghosts in the place, when they didn’t follow him or the others back to it.”

One could deduce that Neil’s father was a hitman or crime lord or something, someone powerful enough to allow him such freedom to commit so many murders since Andrew didn’t think Neil was exaggerating or lying for once. “And your other talent?” he asked, curious because Neil hadn’t mentioned that the one time he’d referred to growing up seeing ghosts.

Neil’s fingers clenched in King’s thick black fur for a moment as he drew in a deep breath. “I guess Mum knew there was a chance I might have another talent since it runs in the family and kept me covered all the time when I was little, not that my father or anyone paid much attention to me except to… well.” Andrew caught that and the way that Neil’s eyes went blank for a moment, but let it go for the time being. “When I was old enough to walk around and understand things, she figured it out and like with the ghosts, taught me to be quiet about it.” He seemed lost in thought for a couple of seconds and shivered. “All it took was Lola and the others touching me for me to figure out _why_ I needed to be quiet.”

“Even your father?” Andrew remembered what Stuart had said about the man and hoped that the bastard’s death had been drawn-out and painful.

“ _Especially_ my father,” Neil agreed, his voice hoarse and expression haunted. “But he found out in the end and planned to sell me to… I don’t know.” Neil shook his head as he stared at nothing in particular. “We never found that out, Mum just grabbed me and some money and ran. He sent people after us, Lola included, and after Mum died, Stuart and Uncle Will went… well, they took care of him and everyone.”

That last bit Andrew already knew, had been traded for a couple of truths already (his time in juvie, some ‘tidbits’ from his youth in foster care), but that was the most Neil had ever said about his father even if he still didn’t provide a name or certain details.

“So you saw someone who should be dead today, someone who wasn’t very nice.” Andrew noticed Neil’s slow nod, the way he still was drawn in on himself along with that comment about his power and made a ‘wild’ guess. “Someone who used to hurt you when you were a kid, right?” There were all those scars beneath that t-shirt, after all, and even if he was a bit of an asshole, Stuart didn’t strike Andrew as someone who killed people for no reason.

Neil’s head jerked up at the question and his lips moved without any sound coming forth for a couple of seconds before he gave a slight nod. “Yu-yeah,” he confirmed as he ducked his head and rubbed at his left side. “She… yeah.”

Okay, Andrew actually hoped that Stuart had somehow messed up and hadn’t killed the bitch now, except that meant that someone from Neil’s past was in town, which probably wasn’t a good thing, was it. He also supposed that it might be something the asshole Brit might want to know.

“I’ll get the groceries tomorrow,” he told Neil while his phone pinged to let him know that the food would be arriving soon. “No more running for you until we figure out what’s going on – if you’re that restless, we can order a treadmill or something.” Though it would be interesting, trying to find space for it in the small apartment.

“But… maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was someone who just looked like her,” Neil tried to argue as his brows drew together.

“Maybe, or maybe your uncle messed up and she was really there.” For some reason, Neil didn’t strike Andrew as the type to ‘see’ things that weren’t there, not when his talent was so powerful and had such an impact on his life. “Until we can rule out the latter, we’re going to be careful.”

He was glared at for a couple of seconds for that proclamation, but a true sign of how rattled Neil was by the possibility of this ‘Lola’ being around was that he quickly caved and agreed instead of fighting back. That he’d answered so many questions without his usual snark and ‘turn’ nonsense.

Soon after that, their dinner arrived, which meant that Andrew got to have a shot of whiskey with his iced coffee and sushi; they talked about the upcoming auction and how busy the next week would be, leading up to the auction.

Neil picked at his spicy salmon rolls at first, until Andrew gave him an intent look which made him sigh and choke down the food. By the time Andrew left for the evening, he seemed to have calmed down enough to roll his eyes and make a snarky comment or two over Andrew leaving with a bag filled with British food.

As soon as he was in the GS, Andrew sent a text to Stuart, certain that the man would answer despite the time difference; he didn’t know for certain what hours Stuart kept, but they sure as hell weren’t nine to five. After telling the man (mobster, whatever) to call him in about twenty minutes, he checked his phone for a message from Renee (one that she’d call him later) and scanned the ones left by Aaron, Bee and Nicky (nothing important, just another family dinner soon, yay) so he could drive home.

He’d just changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when his phone rang – Stuart. “How’s Neil?” The man sounded tired and a little on edge.

What a nice ‘hello’, something Andrew kept to himself for once as he clicked his tongue and cut to the chase since he wanted answers and not to be on the phone all night. “Tell me about Lola Malcolm,” he countered while he poured himself some whiskey.

The line went quiet for several seconds, followed by a sharp inhale of breath and the sound of a lighter clicking. “What the hell? Where did you get that name? And how’s Neil?”

“I got it from him and he’s fine, if a little shaken,” Andrew said after a sip of whiskey. “He told me about her because he swore that he saw her today, alive, even though she’s supposed to be dead, according to you.”

Speaking of swearing, there was a rather inventive stream of it on the other end of the phone for about half a minute, along with the sound of banging, before Stuart let out a frustrated groan. “Well, _did_ he see her? The _bitch_? Did she come back or something?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything. We were at the store and he started freaking out, but the ward Renee gave me didn’t react at all so I don’t think a ghost was around.” Andrew wouldn’t take Neil there if there were any ghosts. “He admits that he might be mistaken, but his reaction was genuinely upset and he doesn’t seem the type to make a mistake like that.”

“No.” Stuart muttered in French while Andrew had some more whiskey. “He tell you why he was upset? Anything more than I confirmed her death?”

“Well, that she was one of his father’s people, that she hurt him and did a lot of bad shit, and that you supposedly killed her when you killed his father,” Andrew confessed as he refilled the glass, a sudden craving for tobacco overtaking him which he pushed aside for the moment. “Tell me it hurt and make my night.”

Stuart scoffed at that. “Sometimes you’re not half-bad, runt. Even with a secured line… let’s just say we did our best to make them pay, but that bastard… well, there’s a reason he got away with so much, why no one but us were willing to take him down. It wasn’t easy, and there were a few loose ends to deal with, that bitch being one of them. _That said_ , she didn’t get out of the house untouched, and we didn’t leave town before they fished her body out of- well, they found her floating in the river and the coroner confirmed it was her.”

That all sounded on the up and up, but Neil’s fear had been genuine. “You sure you can trust the coroner?” Andrew asked after he tossed back the last of the whiskey.

There was another stretch of silence over the phone. “If it turns out that he lied? I’m personally going to carve out his tongue and make him eat it, along with several other organs before I put a bullet in his head,” Stuart gritted out with so much rage which made his accent thick enough to be difficult to understand at times – but the gist came through loud and clear: pain and suffering for anyone who hurt family.

So much for being cautious, no? But if someone had prevented Andrew from getting revenge on a person who had hurt Bee? Who had cut into Aaron? Who had put such fear into Nicky, pain in the ass that he could be at times? He’d throw caution to the wind, too.

“Have fun,” Andrew drawled as he ran his right forefinger over the rim of the empty glass. “Get a stab in for me.”

“Do your job and watch over A- ah, Neil, you shitty little runt,” Stuart barked before he hung up.

Hmm, Andrew had long suspected that ‘Neil’ wasn’t the lying freak’s name, but now he was rather certain that whatever it was, it began with an ‘A’. Maybe one day Stuart would forget himself and let slip the entire thing.

One day.

He was out on the balcony having a long overdue smoke when Renee finally called back. “Sorry,” she said once he answered, “been busy picking up a couple of things for the auction. What is it?”

Someone had to get their priorities in order. “How goes the visions lately, hmm? See anything that you need to tell me about?” When Renee was quiet, he clicked his tongue as he flicked ash out into the air. “About me and Neil other than your bullshit ‘entwined future’ nonsense? Because Neil had a lovely freak-out earlier tonight where he swore he saw someone from his past, someone who’s supposed to be dead per him and Stuart, someone who _deserves_ to be dead after the hell she put him through.”

Renee continued to be quiet for a few more breaths and then let out a ragged hum. “That… okay, I didn’t see that coming,” she admitted in a thoughtful voice. “But to be honest? Things are… _muddled_ right now.”

“What the fuck do you mean by ‘muddled’?” That’s not what Andrew wanted to hear right now, not when someone who’d hurt Neil when he was a damn _child_ might be on the loose, who was tied to a fucking hitman or mass murderer.

A rare hint of censure crept into Renee’s voice when she next spoke. “I’m not a… a _crystal ball_ , Andrew. I don’t just sit here and see the future all nice and neat for you!” She paused to take a few deep breaths, and her voice was a bit more even when she resumed. “The future is always changing, is affected by so many things, by everyone making decisions. On the _whole_ , there’s certain possible paths because people are somewhat predictable and that’s what I tend to see, and some things will happen regardless because it’s almost as if they’re meant to be.”

“I don’t believe in Fate,” he said before she could continue; he refused to accept that he didn’t have a choice in his own future.

Renee sighed as if exhausted and then huffed. “I know you don’t, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes… sometimes you come across people who are meant to be your life, like Betsy and Aaron and Nicky.”

He hated that there was such an evident pause in her silence, a space just waiting to be filled, a name waiting to be spoken.

“And Neil?” he finally spat out. “Is Neil meant to be in my life, too?”

“Oh Andrew, tell me you don’t know the answer to that already,” Renee said, pity evident in her husky, warm voice.

He almost threw the phone onto the concrete surface of the parking lot below, almost turned around and went into the apartment where he finished the rest of the bottle of whiskey and whatever else alcohol he had around at the moment… but there was a _reason_ for this call other than him listening to such _bullshit_. “What the _fuck_ have you seen,” he gritted out with all patience gone. “About Neil, and no lies about him and me being tied together, do you hear?”

Renee sighed again, something he was getting damn tired of, before she gave a weak chuckle that lacked any humor. “I told you, sometimes my talent masks certain things from me until it’s absolutely necessary. I know we have to hold the auction,” she said before he could throw the damn phone away and start drinking after all. “I know you need to be near him, and that it was important that I ask him about how he defended himself with his talent. Other than that… it’s _muddled_ ,” she repeated with obvious frustration.

“I have to remain close to him, to a lying freak.” Andrew wanted clarification on that part. “Because you can’t see much of anything right now.”

“How’s _your_ precognition, Mr. Norm?” Renee asked in a sickly-sweet tone of voice. “Wait, aren’t _you_ the one calling _me_ asking what’s about to happen?” When all Andrew did was click his tongue, she let out a satisfied hum. “I thought so.”

“Not so Christian of you, Christian Girl.”

“I consider this my act of multiplying the loaves in the face of doubt, so hush,” Renee told him with a bit of smug satisfaction. “Until you can predict the future better than me, I don’t want to hear it.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed at that comment as he gave in to at least flicking the remnants of his cigarette into the air. “Go away until you have something useful to tell me.” He hung up on the sound of Renee’s pleased humming.

At least Neil had breakfast waiting for him next morning (along with the comment on how he’d have to ask Stuart for more beans since some _asshole_ had walked off with half of his stash) and seemed back to his normal self (other than the dark circles beneath his eyes). Once the eggs, toast and beans were finished, Neil washed the dishes then they were on their way to work, where Renee showed up with a double chocolate bundt cake and some lemon scones (which didn’t quite put her back in Andrew’s good graces but helped somewhat).

He hated how he noticed that Neil was quieter than normal, was tense even around Jean unless Andrew was near, how the young man only seemed to relax around him and appeared grateful when the day was over so they could go ‘home’.

Andrew barely paid attention to the items he dropped into the cart when back at the store, other than to make sure they were ones he and Neil preferred, since he was busy scanning the store for a woman who matched the description that Neil had given him earlier – in her mid-forties, long blonde hair with dark roots, dark eyes, penchant for dramatic make-up and tight-fitting clothes.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to not see her when Neil wasn’t there, when he was on alert for the murderous bitch.

Neil gave him an anxious look when he returned with the groceries then acted dejected when Andrew shook his head. “Don’t second-guess yourself,” Andrew told him. “It doesn’t mean that you imagined her there, just that I didn’t see her. It would have been stupid for her to go back and risk being caught when I’m willing to guess that she wants to rattle you and get in your head.”

“Maybe,” Neil said in a quiet voice as he put the groceries away.

“No ‘maybe’ to it. She can’t be happy that you’re alive and doing well when your family killed her boss and almost her, too. She’s definitely here to fuck with you,” Andrew argued as he leaned against the counter with an iced coffee in hand.

“Yeah, that’s definitely Lola’s style, the ‘fuck with’ part at least. But she usually isn’t one for hide and seek, she’s got a more ‘in your face’ style.” Neil shivered a couple of times. “Preferably backed up with a weapon.”

“All the more reason to take this seriously,” Andrew stressed.

“I know.” Neil summoned a wan smile as he finished putting everything away. “Isn’t there a few eps of that one fantasy show you like that we haven’t watched yet?”

It was the idiot fishing for a distraction, but Andrew was willing to go along so he got to pick dinner (Chinese) and spent the evening arguing magic and ethics with Neil.

He hated how it was actually enjoyable.

He left when Neil kept falling asleep during the fourth episode and got in a short workout at the gym before he read a little and went to bed himself. There was the one damn dream again of him being held down by the faceless, decaying woman, only that time Neil didn’t walk away – he was dragged away by a cackling woman with bleached-blonde hair.

Subtle much, subconscious?

Neil didn’t look like he’d gotten much more sleep than the night before, and he gave Andrew a grateful smile upon greeting as he plated their breakfasts. It was obvious that he had to force himself to eat, and his clothes covered him from just beneath his chin to the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, were dark and loose – Allison was going to have a fit when she saw him.

Andrew almost wished for another damn poltergeist to show up at the Foxhole just so the idiot would be distracted from the whole ‘Lola’ mess, would have a break from his past for a couple of days (enough to give Stuart some time to find out what the hell was going on). However, he figured they wouldn’t be so lucky and would just have to deal with things.

There were bagels in the kitchen that morning, a couple of dozen, and several containers of cream cheese; Andrew was disapproving at first until he found the cinnamon sugar bagels and brown sugar cream cheese. That _might_ have been a faint gagging sound from one idiot freak as he spread the topping on his toasted bagel, but Neil’s face was expressionless when he looked over.

“Behave,” Andrew admonished as he picked up his cream cheese-slathered bagel and mug of coffee.

“Seriously? You’re telling me that?” Neil scoffed as he held his mug of tea held between both hands. “I think your glucose levels are already crashing.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he took a slow bite out of the bagel and tore off a piece.

“Not even the slightest bit scary,” Neil let him know before walking away. “Keep trying, maybe you’ll be better in another-“

“Andrew! Neil!” Robin waved to them from down the hall, an excited smile on her face and Abby’s as well. “You have to come check this out, we just got a big shipment for the auction and it’s all really good stuff!”

He shared a look with Neil, who gave a slight shrug; they still had some time before Peter would show up so they might as well check and see what had the two women so excited and followed them back toward the rooms where Wymack and Allison were storing the items.

“It seems like some company up north heard about the auction and sent a bunch of things they’ve had in storage to us,” Abby explained, a bright grin on her face as she tucked back loose strands of her blonde hair; she was dressed in colorful scrubs that day with little flowers and balloons on them. “David, Kevin and Seth are busy unpacking everything.”

Andrew gave a quiet grunt between bites of his bagel while Neil nodded, and they could hear the three men before they reached one of the rooms – Wymack yelling ‘be careful, you maggots’ while Seth complained about Kevin nearly breaking his fingers.

Just another day at work, oh yes.

A giggling Robin opened the door to reveal the men standing in a room lined with shelves packed with already donated items (paintings, various knickknacks, sports memorabilia, small appliances in boxes, and so forth), with several open crates in the middle of the room and packing material scattered about on the floor. Kevin, a crowbar in hand, stood by a newly opened crate while a glowering Seth dug out what looked to be some sort of wooden medicine chest with mother of pearl inlay. Seth whistled between his teeth as he held it up in the air. “This ain’t half bad.”

“Ohh, I’m half tempted to bid on it myself,” Abby said as she hurried over to take it from the young man.

“Be careful, you moron,” Wymack chided as he leaned against one of the crates and rubbed his right hip. “I’m willing to bet most of this stuff costs more than what you make in a year.”

“Yeah, because you’re a stingy bastard.” Seth gave him a cheeky grin for a couple of seconds, only for it to turn into a nervous laugh when Wymack glared back. “Ah, seriously, why’d they send all expensive shit to us?”

“Like Allison said, it’s a tax write-off,” Kevin explained as he motioned for them to move on to next box.

Andrew had to agree – from what he could tell from some of the newly unpacked items, they did seem to be of a higher quality than most donations. Someone must have been in a very generous mood when they sent the stuff along – that or mixed up the shipping labels.

“Who cares, it’s our shit to give away now,” he said while beside him, Neil went stiff. “What?” he asked. “You want to fight Abby for the chest? She can be vicious, you know.”

“No, it’s just….” Neil shivered for some reason while he stared at the one large crate that Kevin and Seth were opening, with Seth bitching at Kevin to be more careful with the crowbar that time. His attention remained riveted on it the entire time while Abby and Robin took to guessing what might be inside, if it was a painting or a piece of furniture, and a low moan escaped him once the lid was pried free.

Andrew almost reached over to steady his… his coworker when Neil took to wavering back and forth, and only looked back at the crate when Kevin let out an exclamation and set the crowbar aside after prying another wooden panel free. “Holy hell, this has to be worth thousands,” Kevin exclaimed as he and Seth scooped away packing material to reveal a huge blue and white vase that looked to be antique and expensive as hell.

It was then that Andrew noticed the cross on his chest grow warm and that Neil’s face was bloodless, his eyes wide with horror and body wracked with trembling as he stared at the item as if had just crawled out of a nightmare.

Well _fuck_ , Andrew should know better to wish for things by then, because they only ever blew up in his face, didn’t they?

*******                        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Hmm, I'm SO excited about the next two chapters, really. And to start work on ch12. *bounces*
> 
> Oh, Bee and the tough love, there. Renee's patience is starting to wear thin, too. 
> 
> Andrew's protective nature is showing JUST A LITTLE there, isn't it?
> 
> Neil just wants to stay home and play with King. Who can blame him?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the kudos and comments!

**Author's Note:**

> *******  
> And that's it? Hopefully it's enough to give you a feel for things. Hopefully Renee will show up soon and answer some questions. She's important to the plot.
> 
> And yes, Riko is indeed gone. No teasing there.
> 
> Ah... next chapter? I've no friggen clue, to be honest, work is about to implode on me, I've a couple of owed fics I need to get out as well as RP32. It happens when it happens at this point. I just really, really wanted to write something for my favorite holiday.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> *******


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